Alternate Universe, Season 2
by arsimckhoi
Summary: Kate's the author, Ricks the detective. A killer is loose and she's meddled with his dead father's case. Now it's time to make things interesting. Read Alternate Universe for season 1. Warning: season 1 is M rated.
1. Chapter 1

Beep

Beep

Beep

_Daddy?_

Beep

Beep

Beep

_Who are you_?

Beep

Beep

Beep

_What is that sound? It's annoying._

_Here let me help with that._

The beeping faded until it disappeared.

_Well that's better. Why do you keep calling me Dad?_

The red headed girl came into view and now she looked hurt for a moment then she smiled.

_I suppose you're not. Not yet anyway. But I would like you to be. Maybe someday._

Rick was confused. Not really all that confused, in some weird way it made sense. His repressed urges for making a family bubbling up to the surface from his subconscious in some mental percolated blurb. It was more of a denial.

The little girl began humming a song. It was a cheery ditty. Rising up in a rhythm that complimented a lower constant bass.

_You're my daughter._ His words rang true throughout the opaque surroundings.

The girl smiled and ran to him. She threw her arms around him and gave him a little girl vice hug. Surprisingly strong for her size.

_I'd like you to be. You gotta work some things out with mom first. Don't be scared. There's gonna be a man who won't like it but you can take him Dad!_

Rick was stunned silent.

_I wasn't supposed to tell you all that. Just forget I said anything._

The girl let go from her hug and turned and skipped away.

Rick could have panicked. He could have denied it but he was calm here. In this place in his mind there was no stress or place to hide. It was in his face and in this void, this place that he was in peace.

The girl was sweet. A cute, articulate treasure. She certainly had an odd sense of strength about her and part of him was happy to know she was still showing up in his dreams.

Dreams.

_I'm dreaming._

The _beep beep beep_ came back and she began to dissolve into the safety of the void.

She turned to face him and as the last of her returned to the vapor around him she smiled.

**HOSPITAL**

His eyes opened and through the crack of his eyelids he remembered the saying about them being windows to the soul. The light from the room shined through. The gunk in his eyes from being out so long made his vision fuzzy and everything had a gausian blur and flared look. Like God played with photoshop on his eyes. Motor skills returning he turned his neck and his vision caught a woman in his vision.

"Rick? Can you hear me?"

The woman looked fuzzy. His vision wobbly and it must have been the muck still in his eyes giving the halo above her head. Angelic but real. His sight returning slowly as his heart pumped blood throughout his body to compensate for his consciousness.

Beep

Beep beep

Beep beep

The heart monitor rang in a flurry as he moved and sat up.

He moaned feeling the sound he made reverberate through his body. A sort of purr to wake up his extremities.

The woman touched his hand. Warm. It felt nice. She smiled and something in him eased. She was beautiful. She didn't want her to let go.

"Rick? You're in the hospital. St. John's. How do you feel?"

_Rick._ _My name is Rick._

A quick self check and it seemed silly to realize that. He knew it better than his own body. His head throbbed as he tried to lean towards her. Something in his movements felt off and his thoughts became garbled and unable to complete themselves.

He began to speak and the oxygen mask immediately broke it's seal as his jaw opened. The gentle hiss of escaped air bringing him to attention.

He removed the mask and then noticed his hands. Hand's were funny. Fless wrapped around bone with these things that wiggled. _Fingers._

The world returned to his awareness and the sense that he could relate to a new born came over him.

_Bodies are so weird._

"Hello? Rick?"

A woman in white came in. _Nurse._ He knew that. He began to turn on his thoughts. Focusing on movements and his sense of self increasing.

"Yeah?" He answered.

"How do you feel?" The nurse opened his eyelids and shined a tiny light into his eyeballs. The light hurt but it was gone before he could complain.

"Weird. I feel weird."

The two women didn't respond right away.

"Weird how?" Said the nurse.

"Like – I'm here but _not?_"

The lady that had the halo when he woke up nodded as if she understood.

"You took several blows to the head mister Castle. You may experience some disorientation. Nausea. The doctor will come in to check on you and ask some questions. You up for that?"

Still amazed by his and the dexterity of his fingers he nodded in agreement.

The nurse left and he was left with the lady with the halo.

She grabbed his hand again while he played with their movements and got his attention.

"Hey. You okay?"

"I think so. Why? What happened?"

A little concerned but now happy to have a chance to talk she continued.

"You were tied up and beaten."

The fact sat openly and unattended.

"The Tooth Fairy, he-" she hesitated. She braced herself to tell the story she knew she was going to have to come to terms with herself.

**48 HOURS EARLIER**

She was drying her tears and trying to decide whether she should call him.

_Not like this. It can't end like this._

She went to her room to grab her phone and stared at the luminescence from the screen.

_Just call him Kate. Tell him you're sorry. Beg. Plead. Anything._

She had pried into the unwanted like Pandora herself. It was stupid, selfish and reckless. Love of a good mystery or not she had no right to go meddling. Like some stupid Scooby Doo knock off she had gone digging and reality had pimp slapped her. Called her a whore and reality was right. She had no business going behind his back like that.

_Knockknock_

Her heart jumped to her throat and she ran to the door.

"Rick! Please! I'm sorry!"

She opened the door and was smothered immediately by a man in a gray hooded sweater, sopping wet and hands wrapped in gauze. She hit the floor and was immediately short of breath. Then he spoke. His voice eager, slithery and excited. His hand covered her mouth.

"Kate Beckett I presume?" He smiled and she knew who it was. The man that was coming to 'interview' her. The man who had written a letter containing his admiration for her writing covered in blood. The man who had eviscerated two random people to get her attention. Not the devil but his right man.

"Did you like my art I made for you?" He fumbled out a bottle before landing a right hook that left her dizzy and half conscious. It wasn't his hardest punch and for the moment she felt she knew what it was like for a mouse to be stunned then toyed with by a cat.

"The couple next door. They were so cute together. Struggling day to day. Surviving on hard work and love. Tragic end. Their matrimony in blood."

She heard a slight giggle come from him.

"You're boyfriend has quite the face. I enjoyed breaking it."

Her mouth was covered and the chloroform quickly drew her into darkness.

When she awoke she was stiff and sore. She tried to move but couldn't. It was as if she was awake in a night terror. She noticed the single beam come down from her track lighting and the shadows casting down on Rick's face. The darkness covering his eyes and mouth in sharp black stripes. Her poker table center stage for what she saw next.

Rick raising a gun to his temple.

"When I get to Hell I'll tell 'em the Tooth Fairy sent me and I kicked your ass with one hand tied behind my back."

His words filled with the heroic bravado of a dumb action hero.

She screamed. Her eyes swelling with the pain of seeing what was yet to happen. Her heart breaking all over again.

_Click_

The killer laughed. Rick pointed the gun toward the killer.

_Clickclickclickclick_

The struggle of Rick trying to fend off the psychopath with one hand. The chloroform rage covering his mouth and the struggle stopping.

The killer walked behind Kate, turned off the video camera recording the 'show' and he pulled up a chair next to her.

"I can not explain how much fun it's been Kate. Unfortunately this little performance piece must end and I have to go. See you around."

Then he left. Just like that. Like an estranged relative from another country who just wanted to show the family tree.

The tension eased and she began trying to free herself. It was an hour until police finally arrived with Ryan bringing up the rear and an ice pack on his own face.

**HOSPITAL**

Rick was enamored with her telling of the events. It was such a great story and he certainly couldn't believe that it had happened to him.

"Do you remember anything that happened Rick?" She asked.

His face was blank. He stared at her, searching for the right answer.

"Lady I have to tell you I don't remember anything."


	2. Chapter 2

**Remember to leave a review… or there will be consequences.**

"…and the amygdala, which helps with the memory coding process, during impact can become injured or damaged in such a way that could lead to issues with recall. Specifically with short and near term memory. We see this often times in athletes and concussions. Football, soccer and the occasional hockey. Also in car accidents, mainly rear end collisions where whiplash and airbag deployment are concerned."

_Speaking of airbag…_ The thought creeped up betraying her desire to pay attention.

He was calm and precise which helped clear things up but as great a job as he was doing explaining she was quickly finding herself bored. It would be different if she was watching a cat video on youtube and reading something of a satire site. Something about multiple activities going on made her focus better.

"My advice to you, as his …" the doctor's voice trailed off not quite sure how to address Kate.

"Uh, " _Girlfriend?_ No. Not that. No way was she going to drop that bomb in the room right now. "Partner."

"Partner. As his partner just keep in mind that he will need to heal. His memory might return but then again it might not. Right now he needs support and encouragement more than anything. If he misplaces things regularly or begins forgetting things like date's and times, we need to see him again and get another PET scan. Reason being the damage may be more pronounced as a result of the chloroform. Concussions and brain function are critical in the first 24 hours, consciousness should be kept. Now that we are out of that window we need to keep an eye out for other issues. Among other things being depression, suicidal thoughts. Things like that."

_Great_. She thought. _Guy played Russian roulette to cope and NOW he might have suicidal thoughts._

She remembered him telling her about spinning the barrel hoping he would end his own suffering.

"Thank you doctor." The voice next to her taking over the conversation.

His mother. She said it was Martha and she immediately eyed Kate over when they shook hands.

The doctor left the room quietly, as if he had another room to go explain the same thing to and it was just them now.

Now she knew how a boy getting his prom date must feel. She made special note to try and remember this moment to try and advise Alex when it came his time to pick up some girl for the big dance.

"So you're his ... partner was it?"

_Typical mom tactic._ _Her mom had done the same to dozens of her boyfriends and her friends who were boys._

"We work together. Technically I'm a special adviser. I was partnered with your son."

"Ah."

Martha tilted her head back sort of like she was looking through reading glasses. Trying to get the details out of Kate.

"Well this is all too much for me to understand so maybe you can explain to me what happened?"

_Damn it._

"I was … uh working on a case with him and he went home for the night after storyboarding the crime and he was jumped. That's the best way to put it really."

"Mmm Hmm." Martha's disposition hadn't changed.

"So you were working a case and he left and was mugged? Attacked? Must have been a heck of an attack. My son is former Marine you know."

_Damn it._

"Yes, well, must have been a lucky shot. I imagine your son isn't the kind to take a flop."

Martha nodded.

"So this case … do you think it might have anything to do with the attack?"

_Note to self: If Rick's memory comes back and it doesn't work out? NO MORE COPS!_

Kate was growing uneasy with the questioning.

"Unfortunately. It does seem likely there might be a connection. We're looking into it."

She wanted to leave. Really. She did but the questions were phrased so politely it made it hard to leave.

"Kate – It was Kate wasn't it?" Martha waited for confirmation and got it.

"How long have you been with my son?"

Kate would've done a spit take if she had something in her mouth.

"Like- work with him or…?"

"Is there another way you've been with him?" Martha's head went down but kept eye contact. Staring down Kate like her face was a sniper scope.

"No. No not at all. We just started working together. About a week."

"So let me get this straight. You're with him for one week and he is in the hospital, nursing himself from an injury he received after working a murderboard."

"Bad luck but it seems that's it."

Kate was hoping it was done.

Martha relaxed her body. Stopped her piercing stare then –

"Kate, darling, I'm not stupid. No one calls it storyboarding. NYPD doesn't have 'special advisors' that detectives can just run around the city for a week with and for the love of God I can read. I know who you are Kate Beckett."

_Just one more reason fame sucks._

"Level with me Kate. You two were shacking up weren't you?"

Kate's mouth dropped.

"I – Martha! No! I-"

"Well why not? Is my son not good enough for you?"

"No, it's not that. We aren't –"

"Oh so you two haven't had 'the talk' yet I suppose."

Martha inhaled and sighed heavily.

"Well good luck with that." Martha grabbed her purse and headed toward the door.

"Have Richard call me when he gets better."

Martha's clicking heels faded down the hallway and Kate buried her head into her hands.

_The hell just happened?_

**RICK'S HOSPITAL ROOM**

The steak burger had grill marks that seemed painted on. Initially a disgusting idea but maybe the blow to his head had effected his judgment as well as his taste buds. Maybe the brown "gravy" masked what could be guessed were trace amounts of barely FDA approved meat or meat byproduct. The lima bean and white cubed vegetable was dipped in some hallucinogen that made mass produced food seemed like fine cuisine. Whatever it was Richard was eating it without complaint.

The TV was playing Price is Right and they watched Drew Carey smile and talk and the contestants laugh with joy and celebrate and spin wheels. Oh yes, plinko. Plinko. The least skill based game ever. Drop a puck and let gravity work. Boring really.

"So…" he finished the last section of food on his tray and pushed it aside. He propped himself up and looked at Kate who was hanging on every syllable that would come from his mouth.

"… rumor has it we should know each other."

_Rumor?_

"What do you mean rumor?"

"Everyone that comes in here keeps looking at you like you're important. Who are you?"

She was only slightly hurt. He wasn't trying to be mean he just was healing now. The doctor had mentioned he'd need to heal. She hoped she was in there somewhere.

"I'm Kate Beckett."

"The writer?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Never read your stuff. Must be good though."

"I've written seven best sellers." She didn't want to sound cocky but she was hoping it would trigger some memory of her.

"Derek Storm?"

She nodded.

"I have read one of your books! The one where takes on the cartel!"

She smiled. She was in there somewhere.

"Oh ho! That was a fun book and believe me I don't read a lot but that one was … whew!" He raised his hands as if in praise or a roller coaster.

"Is that all you remember?" She was hoping to trigger another memory.

"For now. Why? Were we…" His eyes widened when he realized why she was there.

"Were we together? Like _together_ together?"

"No. Not _together_ together but we were together." The statement leading to confusion for Rick.

"Like what?"

"Well for one we worked together for a short time."

"How long?"

"One week."

He nodded. He seemed impressed with himself.

"Let me guess. Research for a book?"

She nodded.

He lightly pumped his fist. "I knew it! After I read your book, well one of your books, I remember thinking, 'Man she should follow me around. She'd get a few good stories from me.' "

For a flash she pictured him doing poses in front of a body length mirror in his underwear, trying to be his own book cover.

Something on her face was missing. Off. Not satisfied and so he thought some more, trying to remember. At least she thought he was trying to remember.

Then he snapped his fingers. "I got it! I saved your life one day as you were just thinking of someone to study for a new character for a series and just like that the universe answers."

She was excited. This could be it! How she comes flooding back into his life.

"Do you remember how you saved my life?" Her eyes widened, waiting for her answer.

He grimaced.

"Pushed you out of a moving car."

"Nope."

"Burning building."

"No."

"Mugger?"

"N- Well kind of."

"Bank robbery?"

She thought about it. "No."

"Hostage situation?"

"No. Wait! Yes! That was part of it!"

"Hmmm." He tapped his chin.

"Hostage situation. Al Qaeda?"

"No."

"Bank robbery gone wrong."

"No bank robbery. No Al Qaeda. Yes hostage situation."

He paused.

"I got nothin'. I'm sorry. I guess unless someone was murdered I-"

"Yes! Someone was murdered!"

He got excited again.

"The president."

"Nope."

"Vice president?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Alien invasion?"

"Really Rick? Are you even trying?"

"Serial killer?"

"Yes!" Oops. She jumped the gun. There was a serial killer sure but that wasn't how things happened.

"I mean no."

"Yes to serial killer but no?"

"Yes. That came later."

"In just one week?"

"Yes."

"I got it! I consulted you because you write about serial killers and we wanted to catch one so we…"

She nodded with a smile.

"Gotcha' now!" He smiled happy with himself for guessing the right answer.

He pulled his tray in and continued eating.

Now wasn't the time to push the matter and she was sure he wasn't actively remembering and that he was guessing. Somewhere in there she was there. She just had to pry it out. For better or worse she was going to get back in there.

She was happy for now and let it sit.

Time passed and they discussed contestants on game shows that played. Visiting hours ended and she left.

She was going to find away back into Richard Castle's mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Remember to leave a review. Love the feedback. French or not. (google translate is a beautiful thing)**

_Maybe it's for the best he doesn't remember me._

She bit her lower lip. Her reflection stared back at her. It looked guilty. Her guilty reflection speaking the unsaid "What are you looking at?" that she felt inside.

She had been given a second chance. She didn't want to do it this way but she wasn't going to look a pile of gold and call it horse shit.

Her reflection talked.

"You have enough to write a couple books, Kate. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yeah I guess you're right." She said back.

Her reflection responded without missing a beat, "You've put your family in danger, you betrayed your fans and now you got a taste of death. Enough is enough."

"Yeah I guess you're right."

"Just go home and write your little story and enjoy your money and your son and your posh life. You can't go running around getting killed."

"Yeah you're right. When you're right you're right. Aaaaand you're right."

"Of course I'm right. Now go in there and tell him that if needs anything to look you up. That it was fun working together and if he needs help again to call you."

"Yep. You are right."

She straightened her back and entered the hospital room.

Rick was packing up what clothes had been brought to him and she reached for a business card.

"Rick it was fun working with you. I don't think I'm cut out for this detective stuff but I will definitely dedicate the first book to you."

The card appeared form her hand and he slowly reached to take it.

Their hands brushed as he grabbed the card. The connection changed the room. It went from a waiting room to a waiting-for-something-to-happen room. The touch lingering a little too long she did the painful but right thing. She went to him and gave him one last kiss on the cheek.

As she backed away he caught her smiling. As she turned he watched her leave. He put the card in his bag and thought about her for the next three days.

**THREE DAYS LATER**

The card was a little tattered but he could still see her phone number. Putting the card back in his wallet he figured he would be eased back into things since he technically did have a brain damaging injury. While mild for now he knew enough that it takes time to determine what's been damaged.

The elevator he remembered. That was simple. Four walls and some bad carpet. Easy.

The door opened and he was greeted by a round of cheering and applause.

Welcome back balloons strewn about the place and confetti.

He smiled. This he remembered. His work. His friends. Ryan, the guy closest to his desk, Javier, the playful M E who always had the upbeat personality. Lanie, the chief, hard but fiar. Several fo the women he remembered. A few he had the joy of knowing them a little bit better than others. He was greeted with hugs from friends (and groping by the women he knew better). The crowd cleared quickly as Lanie quickly sent them all back to work. Rick found his desk had been left alone. Which was nice. No one messed with it.

Yep. There it was.

All alone.

No one sitting next to it. Which was nice.

Someone had put it there.

"Ryan? You put the donut here?"

"Yeah. Glad to have you back."

Rick was saddened a little but happy for the gift. He picked the candle out and ate it.

"So what's on the to do list?"

"We still have a killer to catch. I think I got something that will jog your memory."

He guided Rick to a separate room where the tv was that they typically watched surveillance footage.

He slid a tape in, turned the tv on and pressed play.

Instantly Rick was greeted by a hooded man with a gray sweater who was adjusting the lense and angle. The hooded man looked back ot the table and stepped out of view.

Rick saw himself tied up and the woman, Kate, knocked out and bound to a chair.

Instantly Rick felt uncomfortable as something clicked.

Clicked.

He was back in the room again. The felt table. The muted screams of Kate.

_Kate. Why is- Kate why are you here?_

The gun rising to his head. A voice outside of himself talking. Beat you with one hand tied behind my back.

_Click_

He came back to the video room and his breath was short.

He leaned over. Putting his head in his hands and tried to unsee what just happened in his mind.

"You okay?" It was Ryan.

"Yeah. Just getting a headache." He lied.

"I'll just go with what we know. The man in the camera, or as we named him in your honor 'Tooth Fairy', is caucasion, six foot three. Approximately two ten, tow fifteen on the scale and judging by his clothes, transient or wants to be."

Ryan handed Rick some pictures and Rick put them to the side immediately.

"We looked at the room he was staying. Rented out to a John Doe, so clearly an alieas and we didn't find much. Dusted for prints and no priors came up."

Rick stared at the paused image of the 'Tooth Fairy' adjusting the lens and his mind raced. He thought about nothing as quickly his mind would go. All the nothing that he couldn't remember during the week. The time he didn't remember with the writer lady. The time he lost in his head and the memories played that he couldn't recall. Something was stirring and trying to punch through whatever was keeping the memories buried.

Something was bumping against the surface of the scarred tissue.

Rick got a crawling sensation. The stirred chemicals that connect when memories are triggered where boiling under but something was cutting them off. He felt his brain was trying to jump out of his skull.

"Wanna take a break?" Ryan's voice was welcomed but-

"I, uh, no. This is good. I need this." Rick's eyes locked onto the face of the killer. Thinner than normal lips. A light scruff on his face. His complexion soiled from crawling and kicking through alleyways littered with oily puddles of trash water. Hooded sweater hanging from the drenching making him look like a child wearing his older siblings clothes.

Rick had to keep working. He couldn't get sucked into the memory again.

"Where is the apartment?"

"Next door to the victim's."

Rick heard a voice. It was his but in his head.

_Check the neighbor's._

A flash of Kate walking along side him down a hallway.

Why did this feel familiar?

"Take me there." Rick demanded.

**8****TH**** FLOOR APT COMPLEX**

The lights were flickering which for some would give an aura of doom but for Rick it was just annoying. They passed the caution tape put up for the scene of the crime and approached the door next to it that was slathered in the same tape.

Ryan hesitated.

"Hey, if you think you can't do this then you need to tell me."

Rick shrugged him off.

"I'm serious now if-"

A crashing sound from inside and the detectives pulled their guns. Ryan stepped back to start the kick and flung it forward with a strength that nearly kicked the door off it's hinges.

"Freeze! Get down on the floor!" Rick was shouting. His gun aimed for the chest of the person in the room.

"Stop! Don't shoot!"

Arms went up in the air and he noticed that it was a woman's body and the voice was-

No.

It couldn't be.

The woman turned around and as much as he was happy to see her again he wanted to shoot her anyway.

He didn't.

But he sure wanted to.

"Kate?" He said.

Scared half to death she smiled hoping they would lower their guns.

"H-h-hey, Rick." Her expression an odd mix of terrified and happy.

"I promise this isn't what it looks like." Her body shaking and voice filled with fear she thought -

_How are you gonna explain this Kate?_

**Cheers! To that beautiful moment when the characters do something you didn't even see coming!**


	4. Chapter 4

**LAST NIGHT**

The case file was staring at her. Not particularly odd since she left it open and the dead man's glossy eyes stared back at her. Wanting answers. Penetrating her soul. A constant gaze that demanded she hear his plea for justice.

'Find my killer' it said.

The she slammed the file shut.

She had finished another four chapters on her book and submitted it for proofreading. The man who had killed Derrick Storm had an alibi that she already figured a loophole to and was letting the action sequence build in her mind. A lot of punching. She looked up some fancy martial arts moves and designed the choreography in her head. She watched a mixture of lightsaber fight scenes, a few old school martial arts clips and a couple of old west shoot out sequences. It was all planted in her head and she was just letting it mix and boil like fight scene soup.

She noted a few bad ass lines, possible consequences to the human body after undergoing an epic physical struggle before she was reminded of her own life or death sequence.

She remembered opening the door and the tackle from the killer. She tried hard to remember any detail she could past the numbing pain and the inability to breath. The dancing lights in her eyes she later discovered during research that those "stars" were the white and red blood cells traveling her blood vessels. An experience she had before after staring at a clear sky for some time when she was younger. Not like the floaty, string creatures that get stuck in the fluid in your eyeballs and stay just outside your direct vision.

She could remember a caucasion man but not any identifying marks. The gauzed hands that seemed impossibly strong. The weight of his body on top of her was … well she had no way of knowing how much he weighed. She didn't know how much Rick weighed but she remembered Josh and he was about two hundred twenty pounds and that seemed about right.

Then she remembered the intimate moments with her ex husband and they jumbled quickly with the killer's posture and voice. Being disgusted quickly she knew she didn't want to associate the father of her child with the killer. He may have cheated on her but that didn't mean she had to make him the villain.

It took two to make a relationship work and a small part of the blame could be placed on her. The late nights. Not paying him enough attention. Not doing all the things he wanted her too. The book tours. Thinking about her son and herself before him. That's what good mothers do but maybe I could have…

She stopped her thought. It's not your fault Kate. He could have said something. He could have said 'No'. he could have taken a few days off every now and then.

_God I'm lonely._

Declaring herself mentally done with the thoughts and her writing she got a glass out of her drawer and reached for a bottle of whiskey in the other drawer.

She poured herself a tall glass, slugged it down, letting the burn coat her senses then poured another.

Putting the bottle back she opted to nurse the glass she had over getting smashed because it didn't feel like a good time to do so.

"Mom?"

It was her son.

"Yeah?" She replied.

"Are you going to shadow detective Castle anymore? You haven't been out of the house in a couple of days."

"No. I think you guys almost getting killed once is enough."

He was quiet. Something was still unsaid.

"Something on your mind?" She probed.

"It's just … you seemed happy. You haven't been happy for awhile."

She let what Alex said sit for a moment before standing up and going to him.

She gave him a big hug, not just for him, but for herself.

"I gave him my number and he knows where to find me." She spoke the truth. She had but since there was no memory of her outside of some woman from the hospital their time was reduced to simple conversation. She couldn't handle that. She would tell him everything if she was around him too long. The violation of trust. The passion they had together.

She hoped he would call. Most men she would meet at the bar would. A few dates. A few times in bed and that would be it. She'd be satisfied and it wasn't like she did it all the time. Just the two times but she was glad that even though she was as old as she was she still had it. Still had game. Game that she was completely tired of playing.

"Watch a movie with me? I can't sleep." Alex said. Her son was becoming a man but for this moment he was her boy.

"Sure. What movie?"

"Something funny. Sci-fi maybe."

"I'll pop some popcorn."

She got a bag out and tossed it in the microwave and her own thoughts needed the break from what happened. The whiskey relaxed her but didn't fix the problem.

"I got, uh, Dumb and Dumber or Fifth Element."

"Wow! Tough choice." She pondered her options.

Dumb and Dumber, while a hilarious movie, had a bit of a bummer ending. Fifth element had Bruce Willis and love conquering all.

"I'll go Fifth Element."

Alex nodded and put the disc in and started the Xbox. It started up as Kate brought over the bowl of popcorn to sit next to Alex.

"You know," he started, "something about this movie always bothered me."

"What's that?"

"The scene where Bruce Willis shoves the General into the freezer and he gets frozen?"

"Yeah?" She said with a fistful of popcorn in her mouth.

"He just killed an army officer and he not punished for it."

"Well," Kate pondered before answer, "He does save the whole planet."

"Yeah by hooking up with Mila Jovavich. Twist my arm."

Kate smiled. _Good ol' hormones working normal I see._

The movie played and just about the time Bruce Willils was eating Chinese food Alex chimed in, "And how stupid are the cops? A highly advanced technological era and they knock on the wrong door before talking to him?"

"Well yeah. They're still people. Just because they have all the fancy toys there's still the human element."

"The fifth element! Awww!" Alex's jaw dropped.

Kate's eyes widened. "Oh my God! That just happened!"

"I know I'm all –" Alex put his fists to his head then expanded them going outwards while mimicking an explosion sound.

"Mind! Blown!" Kate said.

They both had a laugh for a minute then they watched the rest of the movie, Mila kicking ass Bruce Lee style, Bruce Willis kicking ass _him_ style and the whole Earth being saved with a single kiss. Cheesy after the fifth watch but still fun.

"I'm going to bed Mom."

" 'kay sweetie."

"Hey mom?"

"Yeah?"

"If I can't sleep can I come talk to you and stuff?"

She was happy to still be needed. She remembered him jumping into bed with her when he was four and her calming him after a bad dream. She kind of missed those days.

"Of course. Anytime."

"Love you mom." He went up the stairs to his room and she went to her own room. Brushed her teeth and cleaned up. Got on her clothes to sleep and let her eyes close.

_H__Human element_

She chuckled a bit remembering the hammy freak out they both had.

_Police went to the wrong door. Human element._

She rolled to her side. Then to her back.

Then she remembered –

_When Rick left there were no cops outside. Where'd they go?_

She shot upright.

_The killer barged in and no one was around to ask why he was dragging an NYPD detective behind him?_

_Where was the doorman? Where were the police that were supposed to replace them?_

Her mind racing she threw the covers off and started walking around her room.

_End of shift? Maybe. Did Rick send them home? Would he remember? They may have gone home but the doorman …_

_He'd have to see Rick get dragged in. Who was the doorman that night?_

She played the mental tape forward more hoping to remember more when –

_The killer talked about Richard's father's case._

_How did he know about the case? You left it in your den. He could have read it._

That answer would work but didn't feel right. _If this was a story that would just be too convenient. The killer might have known about it already._

_Doorman gotta find out what happened to the –_

Then her face went white with horrified shock.

_The doorman and the killer knew each other. The police outside. They were all in on it!_

She thought hard. Unlikely but it would make for a good story.

_If they knew each other then somewhere they'd have ways to communicate. Phone numbers. Addresses. Something._

_How would you find that?_

She thought of her own life. Desk drawers in her loft. Coffee tables. Baskets for holding car keys. Places like that.

_We missed something. If they did know each other …_

She didn't know how to finish the thought. Something had to be left behind. Something pin pointing a relationship with the other conspirators.

She couldn't just run around a police precinct pointing fingers though.

_Maybe there's something at the crime scene. Something was always there that we didn't see._

She couldn't think of what to look for. Everyone puts info on cell phones now. An address book was unlikely. Maybe a footprint.

She didn't know what to look for or what she could look for but she knew one thing.

She had to get back to the scene of the crime.

**ROOM 837**

The story didn't answer the question.

"So what are you doing here?"

"Oh. I, uh, saw this place closed up. Assumed it was the killers and went in here instead."

His face was expressionless.

"You might be onto something. Ryan? Let's take a look."

They scattered to separate rooms to find something they didn't know to look for. Looking for evidence to capture the Tooth Fairy.

_If Amy had said Leprachaun, during the interrogation, this might be a little more whimsical. Like looking for a pot of gold._

Kate's thoughts screeched to a halt.

_Amy. She knew about the killer the whole time. That means that …_

"Rick!" She shouted.

He poked his head back into the room.

Her breath short with excitement. "I know who the killer is!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Where to start? If you aren't reading the story I get it. Caskett smut is awesome. I hope you give this a chance because well… a storm is comin'. Leave a review.**

She was walking very fast towards the apartment building.

"Do you remember anything?" Her voice almost pleading.

He looked around for a moment.

"It's familiar. There was a case here we were working right?"

"Yes! The Pedersen's nanny was murdered."

"Pedersen's! " He snapped his fingers. "Facebook girl."

"Yes! She was murdered and –"

"Stuffed into a dryer?"

"Yes!"

She wanted to pump her fist but was beat to it by Rick.

"Okay I remember some of it."

"What else?"

He stopped and she watched him.

It was fragmented. He remembered the body. Sarah was her name. There was an argument over a phone in Lanie's office. Or something. Sketches of words. He threated to put Kate in holding.

Rick smiled a little.

"What?" She wanted to get a wrench and pry it out of him.

"Handcuffs. I threatened to put you in handcuffs."

She smiled back. _That might be fun._

"My safe word is 'apples'."

"No. Not like – wait – no. Not like that."

Something flickered in his mind's eye. Something about tea. A fight? Who was the crazy girl with the knife?

Then it was gone.

"We don't like each other." He said half asking.

She collected her thoughts before talking. "You remember us fighting?"

"I think. Over a cellphone?"

She paused to reflect then insight struck her like a hammer.

"Yes! Sarah had a cellphone that we couldn't find. We spoke to Lanie and you threatened to put me in handcuffs. I threatened to sue …"

She was trying to remember what happened next.

"What?" He asked.

"Then I went home. What else do you remember?"

The prompt brought nothing to mind. He wrinkled his brow and winced his face. Nothing.

"Sorry that's all I got."

"Well we discovered that the husband did it after the crazy weekend nanny, Amy, told him about what she found on the internet."

He followed what she was saying. _Stupid reason to kill_.

She continued, "But when we spoke to Amy she told us about two more murders."

She waited. Nothing. She resumed her pace to the apartment two blocks away.

"Why are we here then?" He inquired.

"When I arrived at the scene I spoke with the doorman to get early access. He knew it was the Pedersen's nanny and on what floor. At first I assumed being privy to such information as he sees people come and go all the time it made sense. He admitted he was a fan and I told him I owe him a signed copy."

Rick stopped walking again. Trying to follow where she was going with her thoughts.

"So the doorman knew about the murder before we arrived?"

"Possibly. I got here before you. You showed up on the Pedersen's floor after they told you who the victim was but I was already there. So tell me detective – how did the doorman, who only sees people come and go, know who was killed when she was never seen leaving?"

Rick flashed a look of 'Holy crap' and was now leading the charge towards the building.

**Front door of Apartment building**

The doorman was smiling. Clean cut. Happy to be of help. _Not the guy._

Rick flashed his badge to get answers and the building was quick to inject himself into the conversation and once he was told a killer might be working for him he ushered them into his office where they had access to records.

"Who was the doorman on the day of the murder?"

The office manager, a french immigrant, spoke with a slight accent. Most likely because he had assimilated to his surroundings over time. Kate imagined him as a man who came to America for opportunity and all the other promises that America says it can provide. He worked his way up to owning the building. Having disputes with residents. All very standard management stuff.

"Let us zee…" The man was looking over a handwritten schedule. "I can tell you he was not a full time employee 'ere. I believe 'ee was a temporar_ee_." Kate was enjoying the way the words swirled around in the air.

Rick was significantly less impressed. "Do you have where you hired him?"

The manager looked through some files.

"It was a _je ne sais quois … _'omeless sheltier?"

"Nearby?" Rick said.

"Oui. Broadway and twenty seventh." ***

The walk back to the car was quieter.

"So the doorman had a temporary address. Halfway home." She was stating the obvious to try and get feedback from him.

"Yep."

_Short answers mean short fuses._

"You remember something in there?" She probed.

"I remembered you acting like a jackass."

Her jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"No. It's excuse _moi._"

"What'd I do?" She was angry now. Was he mad because the manager spoke French?

"Based on history, arguing over a cellphone, your behavior in there I can assume we probably had different ideas about investigating but next time we come across someone with an accent don't start swooning, okay? It's unprofessional."

"Swoo-!" The accusation stunned her to silence.

"Me? Swoon?!"

"I didn't stutter." He replied.

"I – I was not _swooning_!" She deepened her voice on the last word, mocking the effort to take it seriously.

They had finally reached the car when he said, "Then what were you thinking about in there? Croissant's and late's?"

_You and me, in Paris, making love in a five star hotel room you ass_.

"I- I – was- the case. I was thinking about the doorman and the case."

"Mmm Hmm. Little slow on the response their Beckett."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Are you jealous?"

He had just sat in the driver seat before he stood up and locked eyes with her.

"What?" The look of disbelief covering his face was all she needed to see. _Busted._

"Oh! My! God!" She was going to enjoy this.

"Oh my god what?"

"You are jealous!" She posed confidently. He was on the ropes.

"Me? I don't get jealous." He started laughing. "Jealous over what? Fine wine?"

His response was enough for her. She was in there somewhere running circles around his busted memory but she was in there. With a small smile she casually entered the car passenger side and waited.

_What just happened?_ He thought.

He sat down, started the car and they were in silence. He pulled out into traffic.

He grew annoyed by her silence. Her smug silence. Her smug, annoying silence.

_Two can play this game._ Then he grinned.

"Maybe we can get zee coffee at zee café after zee case?"

"I wasn't swooning Castle."

"Cass-ell? Who es zis Cass-ell? _Mon nom est _Rick_ee_."

"Real mature. Classy. Really."

"Would you like zee sheeze? Zum wine? I hear swooning goes avec le vin?"

"I know what you're saying Rick. I toured in Europe for three months."

"Uh huh ho! Elle sait parlar francais!"

He turned the wheel to go east. They were going to the homeless shelter.

Or as Rick was going to call it all the way there – "Zee 'omeless sheltier!"

**Shout out to the French readers. Caskett moment provided. Leave a review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Arsi taketh and he giveth away. Leave a comment. If I reach a certain amount things can go very well…**

While they waited in the room for the program director she couldn't help but notice him moving his head side to side. Applying pressure to his eyes trying to get them to refocus.

"You alright?" It was an innocent question.

"Yeah, I just …" His voice trailed off like a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"I just keep remembering stuff. At least I think I remember them. They could just be my imagination."

"Like what?"

"You, mainly."

She tried hard to hide her excitement.

"What kind of things?" She moved forward in her seat.

"I remember an argument. Not sure what it was about." He locked eyes with her and for a glimpse saw something in her that was apologetic.

She looked down. That's what it was. Guilt.

"We did have a fight. It was my fault …", she took a shallow breath, "and I'm sorry."

Something cheered in him. Humility. This felt new.

"I'm scared to ask what you did." He half joked.

She was not laughing though. "I went behind your back. I lied."

Something about it was heavier than a simple apology.

He pondered what she could have done.

"We weren't together so you didn't cheat on me."

She blushed a little. Only wanting to fall into his arms and beg to be forgiven.

"Wait. Were we?" He had noticed the awkward pause from her.

"I—we had sex. Okay?" She replayed the last time and the way her body had coiled and formed around him. His smell. The way her hair fell onto his face. Their mouths wanting and ebbing to the pull of their desire.

He perked up. He seemed happy.

"So we _were_ together?"

"No. We hadn't actually talked about it."

He put his hands behind his head and smiled. "So I bagged the great Kate Beckett."

She put her head in her hands. _Of course he's going to act like an ass._

"Was I any good?" He asked.

She dragged the hands down her face until a crack in her fingers revealed the office carpet. She turned towards him. Hands still covering her face.

"What does it matter?" She mumbled.

He lost his leaned back demeanor.

"I have a reputation."

"And it's that important to you?"

"Yeah."

_Because of course it is_.

"We don't all have a PR team." His grin was annoying her.

He didn't know it but he had opened the metaphorical door to his destruction.

Now her eyes were focused.

"Well if it means that much to you Castle maybe we could go over the details at my house in the Hamptons."

"You? You have a place in the Hamptons?" He said.

"I'm a multi millionaire best selling author. Why wouldn't I have a place in the Hamptons?"

"Wait … you're serious aren't you?"

She smirked.

Then Valerie entered. Valerie was the center manager. She swore a black pencil skirt and business jacket. Her shirt was a nice poly-cotton blend that had a v-neck collar. Her make, lightly applied, made her seem approachable. A few wardrobe changes and a little eyeliner and she'd be a manget for body builders who are looking for a trophy girl.

Friendly as she may appear she was stressed. Easily signified by the load of files cradled in her arms and creased brow. The upside being the business mentality took focus away from her C cup breasts, auburn hair and ass one could bounce a quarter off of.

"Yes. Detective. How can I help you?" Clearly she had work she'd rather be doing.

"Yes. We're currently investigating a homicide and have reason to believe one of your tenants is the suspect."

He swallowed and shifted his weight.

_Was he just checking her out?_

"Well come on then. Who are you looking for?"

_Oh I bet he's loving this._

Kate saw him lose his relaxed posture and sit up.

"A doorman. Rather someone who got a temp gig a few days ago as a doorman."

Valerie released the folders and them _whump_ onto her desk. She place her left and on top of them and blew a tassle of hair away that made the mistake of getting in her field of vision.

"Detective?" Valerie put her chin down and stared at him as if she had laser beams shooting out of them.

He didn't know what to say. _Was that a question?_

Kate looked to see him in mid ogle. She saw her penetrating stare and uncomfortable silence led to Kate clearing her throat. The disturbance was enough to bring him away from Valerie's appearance and to the situation at hand.

"Richard! Detective Richard. Richard Castle. Detective Richard Castle. Detective Castle. Just call me Castle. That way I know you're talking to me."

_The hell was that?_ Kate thought.

Valerie continued, "Right. Mr Detective Richard Castle. I'm sorry to let you know but at these places, commonly known as 'half way homes', we don't have tags on our tenants. Most are fresh out of rehab and have no family that wants them or they're just out of prison and their Probation Officer is their babysitter. Other that that I resolve issues with the tenants and make sure they're working."

Something inside Kate blurted out, "They have to work?"

"Yes one of the stipulations for living here and continuing to seek assistance is that they must at least apply daily or maintain employment at least fifteen hours a week."

Richard's own question came to light, "So if someone was working five days ago through a temp agency how would you be able to verify they were there?"

"They have to sign in and out. Log their hours in the big book every night. WE call every Sunday to verify they were there." She finished.

Kate and Rick exchanged looks.

"We need to look at those files." He commanded.

**FILE ROOM**

Richard was on his third cabinet and flipping through records as best he could.

"Found it yet?" She asked.

"This would go a lot faster if I had some help." He quipped.

"Last time I got involved with the process of an investigation you threatened to shoot me."

He looked a her sitting on the 'break room' table kicking her legs, started to say something then closed his mouth and went back to the filing.

"This place must not be very organized." She looked around a little more before-

"I bet Valerie would help you find it faster."

"We don't need her help we can-" Then he stopped. "Wait a minute."

"Hmmm?" She hopped off the table and stared at the other cabinets in the room.

A moments pause as it finally dawned on him what was happening.

"Oh! My! God!" He exclaimed.

He pointed his finger, "You're so jealous right now!"

"Me? I'm no such thing!"

He laughed out loud, "How do you talk like that?"

"Like what?"

" 'I'm no such thing.' C'mon who talks like that?"

"Smart people talk that way all the time."

"Is that what your TV tell ya? I've talked to you upper class types and you're all the same."

She was the defender of all the privileged now. Her arms at her side, she was the Power Ranger for the well-to-do.

"We're the same? How prey tell are we _aaaalllllI _the same?"

He slammed the cabinet drawer shut.

_How cute._ He thought.

"What?" She asked.

"You're cute when you're angry."

She went to him and jabbed in the chest with her finger. Her fingers, strong and dexterous from years of attacking plastic keys had been forged into weapons.

"You don't get to talk to me like that! You know what I've been through in this last week?"

"I'm sure it was real hard from the top of your tower Rapunzel." Then he stopped. He knew better. It was an automatic response but he knew better. He knew she had been attacked and tied up and he knew better. He knew she'd seen him put a gun to his head and –

She slapped him.

Her voice wavering, hiding the sobs.

"You don't get to hide from this Rick! I saw everything! Everything! You know what that's like?"

He couldn't speak.

She turned her back to him, hands balled into fists and anger rising.

Then her phone started ringing. She let it ring and she didn't bother to pick up the phone.

"You don't get to forget us, Rick. We had something. I know it."

He didn't know if he should be hurt or happy.

"Your scar on your chest and arm. It was from a mission. High priority target apparently because you can't talk about it. You had your arm removed during surgery and placed back on. You had rehab. You got fixed. You can't tell me you have a part of your body shot or blown off or whatever and you're fine but a punch in the face makes you forget me?"

He tried to remember. His tapped out as he had nothing to pull up. No memory of their first time. Patches of an attack. Nothing of her.

He walked to her and she turned around.

"I know I'm in there. It was only a week. I know something good can happen between us." She confessed.

"Why don't you just go home Beckett. Leave the low lifes to keep the city safe."

"Because the heart wants what the heart wants."

He put his hands on her shoulders to comfort the blow of what he was going to say next. "I wish I – " His wandered up and out a window in the room. That was when he saw him. Dressed in street clothes and carrying a bag of groceries. The man took out some keys and himself into the building. _He lived here._

"You what?" She read his face and wanted to reach down his throat and pull out the truth.

"I – remember."

She smiled a little, "You do?"

"Rodriguez. The cop on watch. He lives here."

"What? Why would a cop –" She finished her thought before she realized that the cop wasn't a cop at all.

Rick ran past her to the doorway and turned to the hallway where he saw Rodriguez standing in the doorway. One arm with groceries. The other putting away his keys.

"Rodriguez!" Rick shouted.

The man looked to see where the shout came from and froze when he saw Richard.

The man peaked left. Right. Then dropped his groceries and ran out the door.

"Beckett! Call for back up!" Rick pursued the man on foot.

Right out the door Richard ran into a man holding hands with his daughter and greeted them several "Sorry" 's before before continuing his pursuit.

His thoughts raced with his legs pumping. He was in shape and closing in. He knew he was going to catch the guy. The man darted right down a sidewalk. Weaving in and out of the people and pushing several down. It did little to slow Rick as he jumped over the fallen with a "sorry" coming out of his mouth. The pace broken Rick was quick to pick it back up and now with in feet of the man he shouted –

"NYPD! FREEZE!" Then the mad did. Rick not anticipating the reaction couldn't slow down and used his continued speed to tackle the man.

Panting and losing breath he quickly flipped the man over.

"You need to punch me in the face." He said.

"Wha'?" Rick between breaths was having a hard time understanding him. Maybe his breathing was interrupting what he was saying.

"I'm undercover! You need to punch me and 'cuff me!"

"But-" Rick looked around and noticed a few people had started to gather. One had her smartphone out, recording everything.

"We're on camera." Rick muttered.

"Even better." Then Rodriguez started shouting, "I'll kill your family you pig! Rod-ney King! Rod-ney King!"

"What are you doing?!" Rick looked around and saw Kate turning the corner.

"I'm gonna burn this whole city to the ground! Don't touch me!" The man shouted.

Rick was confused. That was when the man smiled and said, "You better knock me out detective."

Then the man grabbed Rick by the shirt slammed the crown of his head into Rick's face.

Not hard but enough to get the point across. Then Rick threw one punch and the man went cold.

"You're under arrest. Anything you say can and will be used against you." Then he saw the man peak one eye open to check and make sure everyone was believing it. Rick grabbed him and picked him up and slammed him against a nearby parked car. Handcuffed him and began walking him back to the car.

Kate moved to help carry the culprit and they both heard applause from the crowd that had gathered.

"What the hell is happening right now?" She asked.

"I have no idea." Rick replied.

"Just take me in." Said the man under his breath.

By the time they reached the cop car, Rick shoved the man into the back seat and a large crowd had gathered. It was then that Kate made a muscle man pose and began a chant of "U.S.A! U.S.A! U.S.A!"

She got in the car and as they drove away the crowd was still chanting.

**CAFÉ ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN**

The man turned the briefcase to the side which was the signal he could talk to him now. The killer stood with the coffee in his hands and approached.

Settling into the chair the killer was disgusted to even share a table with this man but it was a necessary evil.

"There's been a lot of talk about you and your girlfriend." Said the man.

"I needed Amy to get close to Beckett and you know that." Said the killer.

"You got lucky. If you hadn't stuffed that harlot into the laundry or took an ounce of care we would still be trying to accomplish what we set out to do."

"We? You still talking about that gentlemen's club you're in?" The killer hid a smile under a huge slurp of mocha.

"You ungrateful welp. I give you places to live. I give you money. I give you everything and you-"

"You have me nothing. I had a place. I had a job and I had freedom. You gave me a purpose and that's why I changed the target. The game."

"We had a deal, Jerry."

"I still remember. You'll get your precious prize but if you ever try to tell me what to do again I'll raind down the fury of Satan. They'll add a new book to the Bible with what I'll do to you."

The killer stood and left the man with the briefcase alone in the café.

The man sat motionless, his intellect computing the variables of the societal algorithm. He needed Beckett dead but his once capable yet psychopathic sidekick was now branching out to be his own full scale villain.

_Maybe I can use his ambitions to my advantage._

Then the man sat calmly and drank the rest of his coffee as his new plan began to take shape.

… **or you could not leave a review and things can go very very bad. Bwahahahahaha**

**Buy my book "Chronicles of Valdez" let me know what you think.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Leave a review.**

**It's always the darkest …**

"So someone in the precinct is ordering these hits?"

Rodriguez nodded.

Rick heard rumors years ago about a nefarious, evil dark figure pulling the puppet strings of the NYPD when he first started working but blew it off as conspiracy talk. Internet mumbo jumbo or too many bored meter maids cackling on break.

It grew annoying to the point where he even openly mocked the believers. If someone had that kind of time, money and mental prowess to do all these things why would they be working for the NYPD? Evil genius conspiracies belonged on X-Files or FBI undercover operations. Not this guy from the State Department. Hell it made better fiction than fact. Like Truthers or JFK conspiracy theorists. He'd be more willing to believe evil, secret Free Mason theories or G-8 summits and perhaps dark under dealing in the U.N. but the NYPD? Guy that evil must be a Mets fan. Or crazy. Or both.

"Like Kaiser Soze?" Kate added.

Of course she was eating this up. Like a parasite in a fat person at a buffet. Gross yes. But no less fascinating for her.

Rodriguez rolled his eyes. "Please take this seriously writer girl. We don't have time for plot structure."

Castle kind of smiled at that before taking over, "So someone is killing the criminals New York. Why the Pedersen's nanny? Why the message to Beckett?"

Rodriguez went mostly silent. He leaned back, "I need to make a phone call."

Richard started the car back up and left the alleyway without the lights flashing. Per request of the man in the back seat.

**PRECINCT**

He watched as the break room, occupied by Rodriguez and another man, seemed less interrogate-y and more like two dudes catching up over a beer sans the PBR.

He wanted to know what being said and in spite of his indifferent antics his gazing eyes into the room was more a giveaway then his casual sipping of coffee from the –

"Tastes like battery acid."

It was Kate.

"Like battery acid had a one night stand with monkey piss and it's doing the walk of shame in my mouth."

_Seriously?  
_

He continued physically showing disinterest in her review of precinct coffee.

"So this Voldemort thing we're seeing … what do you think?"

"Well," he followed the analogy and stopped trying to correct her, it was really useless to try, "if someone is ordering hits on killers and gangs across New York then this serial killer was a miscalculation. I don't think anyone is dumb enough to have a raving lunatic do it for them. It would have to be someone with loyalty. Mobsters have hitmen. Cult leaders have followers. You'd have to be crazy to have a serial killer do the job for you. Someone made a mistake."

Then the man Rodriguez was talking to opened the door and montioned for Rick to enter. Kate followed.

He quickly gestured for her to stay in her place and Rick looked for her reaction.

As fate would have it her cell phone began to ring again.

"I'll take this." She said but her eyes stared at Rick with an intensity that a sorority girl would to another saying _I want details!_

Rick entered the room.

"Alex? What's up?"

"Hey Kate." The voice was that once warm, fuzzy familiar sound of a distant past. It was sincere and caring. Still her mind coiled a small amount at hearing him. A tiny _oh so miniscule_ part wanted to lash out and still harbored the bitterness and resentment of someone broken hearted. Not that she still was. It was more a _I miss feeling broken hearted_ type of feeling. Five stages of grief or not she was still going to say something back.

"Hey Josh."

"Hey I scheduled a few days off and I wanted to hang out with Alex. That cool?"

_That cool? What is he fourteen again? Ass._

"No. Yeah. Hey, of course you guys can go hang out. Were you going?"

"Don't know yet." He seemed happy. Upbeat. Weird since he basically called her a frothing, micromanaging bitch before he signed the divorce papers. Which she wasn't, she just never knew when he was going to be home and since, as it turns out, he was "working late" between someone's legs it would be nice to know that if-

"I was thinking Central Park. Maybe go get some new threads."

That dark, resentful side grew just a smidge. _Threads? So now you're the cool dad?_

"Yeah! Just have him back before eight. Tests and dinner and all that."

"Yeah, no problem."

The call should have ended there.

"I got something I want to talk to you about."

She responded before she could check her words. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothing bad! It's good news I promise."

She hated good news. "Good news" use to mean promotion and more time away. He would be happy about the pay but they really didn't need that. Maybe that was the reason he began seeing other people on an extracurricular basis.

"Okay well I'll see you tonight." She hung up.

The call bothered her. It had too. She couldn't just let it go. If she didn't bother to try and read into what he said then it meant he won. Yeah. She wasn't going to let him win. Unless … that's what he wanted her to do. In which case he won.

Now he had her right where he wanted her.

In or out of her head was a win/win situation for him. _Bastard_. She thought.

She opted for the soft 'win'. To think about him but not in an entirely positive way.

They did have good times together. Lots of good times. They still would be together if he hadn't cheated on her. They separated cleanly since they both were well off financially and the only sticking point was Alex. Alex still wanted to see his father most of the time. Kate didn't want her son to get caught up in the money and rich kid thing as it seemed her husband – scratch that – ex husband did. Kate held Alex accountable. She didn't buy off principal's or anything like that, not much need to since he was a good kid.

A little too good perhaps?

Now questioning the moral capacity of her own perfectly normal, well behaved son she remembered why she hated Josh so much. It wasn't something she would admit to anyone but her questioning Alex's father's morality made her question the gene pool in its entirety. She found this was normal in divorce. What kind of person am I that would allow this happen? Common question in the early stages and certainly the fact it was showing up now meant …

Kate sighed.

She knew how Anakin Skywalker felt. Falling into the state of bitter, anger, wanna-kill-everyone, was easy when dealing with the matters of the heart.

_If only I could crush people's throats with my mind._

Between Kaiser Soze, Voldemort and now Darth Vader her imagination was having a little too much pop culture influence. She decided to see what Rick was up to. Maybe thinking about the case – oh. He was still talking to the guys in the break room.

She sipped her coffee. The overall disgusting feel of the sludge she made herself gulp down got her thinking clearly. More along the lines of monkeys pissing on car batteries.

**BREAKROOM**

They asked him how they came to find Ivan Rodriguez. So he told them. They asked why he thought to check the horribly mutilated couple's apartment. So he told them. They asked him about the Pedersen's. How he came to believe it was the husband. So he told them. All three had one thing in common. Kate Beckett.

She was the one who suspected the Dad initially and led to them talking to the part time nanny. Who then wanted to meet Kate which then lead to the discovery of two murders then the threat of her own life.

"Wait a second." He said.

"You don't think she set all this up?"

The two men looked at each other quizzically.

The man in the suit commented first, "No detective. What did cross our minds is that is expecting us to think that."

Richard was a little blown away by that. "Who would try to set her up?"

They glanced at each other then the man in the suit spoke up, "We don't know but something is pointing to her. Since she was initially the target it seems she needs further investigating. Being in the limelight like she is, it shouldn't be too hard to dig up a few things but until we do find someone to link her to we need you to keep an eye on her."

Somewhere in the memory of her he conjured a smile. Lightly parted lips revealing her perfect teeth. Her facial muscles rising at her cheekbones making her soft face highlight her brown-with-yellow-flecks eyes. Like golden firework sparks igniting on a sunset. The memory of her much more delightful then his encounters as of late.

_Where is that Kate? I'd rather talk to that Kate._

A part of him thinking that maybe he could be more than just someone to shadow to her.

"So what do you want me to do?" He asked.

Ivan leaned forward. "As fate would have it a name keeps coming up when we get leads like this."

"Yeah?"

"A shrink. Real smart guy that works with everyone from cops to couples. Even does volunteer time at Blackgate. Ph.D. Leading researcher in hypnotherapy. Real cutting edge cognitive therapy stuff."

A silence fell like a curtain.

"So basically you want me to see a Batman villain?" Rick joked.

They didn't laugh.

"you can't say anything about this detective. We've already gotten approval from your captain. She was most gracious."

Rick looked out to the bullpen and Kate had wandered to the murderboard. She was talking to Ryan.

"It happens you are in the perfect position. With your recent trauma and history we feel you'd be an excellent candidate. If you go to meet the doctor to discuss certain issues in regards to anxiety, depression, memory loss it wouldn't be too farfetched."

Rick could have laughed at how right they were. He didn't but he could have.

_I could talk to someone. Maybe this won't be such a bad idea._

"You want me to go see a psychologist about mental health issues to try and find out if he's part of conspiracy to somehow kill Kate for some unknown reason?"

The two men paused. Their silence one of anticipating an answer and not giving one.

"You sure you shouldn't bring this up to her? She'd love this."

"You'd be compensated for your extra time of course and bringing this network to light would add great credence to a somewhat, shall we say …" The man in suit weighted his next words.

"Tarnished career."

Rick was about to punch the suit right in his face.

"Rick we need you buddy. This guy, if he is the guy, traces back to three dozen murders in the last five years that we can even connect him too. It can't be coincidence."

Rick weighed the statement. Heavily . Deep cover wasn't like a prostitute sting. It was him and one other guy. His handler. One higher up. Arguments in alleyways. Stress. Lost sleep.

He'd done it once against the Russian mob in the south and he made sure never to show his face again.

"What's in it for me?" Rick asked.

Rodriguez slid a paper forward and Rick snatched it up.

Money. Recognition. Promotion. All very nice. There was a line about witness protection that he could opt into but never out of once the case was closed.

For the quirkiest moment he remembered Kate's offer to go to the Hampton's to try and jog his memory.

"I'll do it. But I want everything gone. Every mark against me on record is gone. The fraternization. The investigation involved."

The man in the suit smiled.

Rodriguez stuck his hand out, "Deal."

They shook on it.

**BULLPEN**

Kate wiped the board clear.

"I'm tired of looking at this. It's all wrong. The story is all wrong."

"The hell Beckett! You can't do that!" Ryan exclaimed.

"Start over." She started at the top and made a huge question mark.

One line down from that she marked 'Sarah'. Made a line sideways, made a box and wrote 'Patel', on the other side drew a line sideways and made a box and wrote 'Beckett'.

"That's what we need to see. For some random reason we are all connected. All have a common link. Something that the killer saw that put us in his sights and when we find that we'll find the killer."

She was right. She began putting the pictures in the appropriate places.

Ryan took the marker away from her and began writing angrily something she hadn't considered.

He wrote 'Amy' below the question mark in an impromptu box.

The only person they hadn't revisited.

Amy.

"Where is she?" Kate asked.

"Waiting for trial."

"In holding?"

"In jail. She didn't make bail based on psych evaluation."

"We got to talk to her Ryan!"

Then Rick stepped out of the room.

"Rick! We got to talk to –"

Rick was stone faced and distant, "Time to go home Beckett. It can wait until morning."

Ryan's turn to be concerned. "What's up?"

"I have to go talk to someone. Follow up stuff since I've had some memory problems."

"Everything okay?" Ryan asked.

"Just call it a day and we'll get back at it tomorrow."

Rick turned and left.

She didn't want him to go. She didn't want to go home and talk to Josh. She didn't want a serial killer stalking her. There was so much she didn't want but some part of her squealed until it took over. _Maybe he'll remember._

She bit her tongue to keep her disapproval quiet.

Ryan turned to her, "Amy will be there tomorrow. Take the day off. Go enjoy your family like a cop would."

She got a light tap on the back and felt some joy in knowing she was being accepted.

… **before the dawn. Google my name. Arsi Mckhoi. Buy my book.**


	8. Chapter 8

She didn't want to open the door. There was still work to be done. It was like an idea that you couldn't find the time to get out. It festered and infected spread into every part of your life. Every motion, word and moment of time reminded her of what was happening.

Then again she was being a wee bit dramatic. Her research in the past brought up the concept of compartmentalization several times. How rescuers and soldiers in intense situations cope with extremes. Focus on the task at hand and do what you can. Kind of rhymed so it was easy to remember. She remembered motivational speeches she has heard in the past. Art Williams saying `Do everything you can because that's all you can do` and Joel Osteen `You must make a decision to move on. It doesn't happen automatically. ` She understood this in a unique way because it was why she did so many book tours early in her contract. Things don't happen in a vacuum. There's action and reaction. You want book sales? You gotta go make the people read! A beautiful synergy of sorts. The readers wanted to read, you had to tell them why they should read you. Shmooze. Make jokes. Be controversial. No press is bad press.

You want to solve a murder? You got to go to the suspects. She knew all to well from her time following Denham in the FBI that technology was great and saved on manpower but didn't tell the whole story. Technology was a force multiplier and time saver but not intelligence enhancer. Drones and computers didn't make you smarter. They were the lap dogs for info fetch. You were the one who got the pile and had to sort through it all. The NYPD didn't have all the toys so it had to reply to some degree on good ol' fashion manpower. Question. Interrogate. Arrest. The physical aspect of apprehending. Nothing likea drone that tracked, followed, and calculated. Police had to rely on intuition and reflexes. Mistakes got made. People got hurt. Lives got saved.

So she had this murderer that was toying with her. She wanted to go get him. Not sit around and wait. This conjured more thoughts. She was reminded of the obsessed cop she'd seen in so many movies and TV. Their lives fell apart. Wives left. Children died. Horrible things as a result of obsession.

Balance. She was finally confronted wit the desire for balance. Before she sighed a contract with Black Pawn balance was easy. Her first deal was setup after she got out of college and she had the luxury of focusing on her passion. Her love of writing and creating. Josh came into the picture when she got into a car accident and he was just a surgeon notifying that she didn't need anything done except rest and a cast for her arm. She would need to take a break for writing for a bit but being the determined person she was, this was when she learned to type and maneuver the keyboard and it's commands with just her left hand.

By the time the cast was remove he had given her his card if "anything changes to call" and he was handsome so she decided the next day "something has changed" and called him the next day. They hit it off and she did like him. He was smart, handsome, and all that. Stuff any women would be attracted too. But he like her back which was enough to start down the road of marital bliss. To him she was interesting. She never bored him and of course the obvious 'sexiness' factor was more than enough to keep him around. Perhaps that was why he was suddenly coming back into her life.

Yeah. He missed her. She missed him. She missed that smile he had and the in depth discussions regarding politics and playing Devil's advocate to his intellect. She liked challenging his hyperlogic based thinking. It was all so silly. Not everything has to have an answer. Life was beautiful with it's mysteries. The unknown. Bigfoot or aliens. Conspiracy theories. Computer generated sex scenes. Okay even she would admit that last one was ridiculous but these were the things that she would challenge him on and she thrived in the unlikely. She loved a challenge. It gave her a chance to imagine and think outside the box. For him a challenge meant someone was more likely to die. He played with the ideas with her but in the end discredited her ideas as 'fiction'.

The had more than a few arguments on what was possible. Especially with money. She bought a house in the Hamptons.

He got mad about the tax liability.

She wanted to rekindle the fire of their earlier days.

He just pulled a 48 hour shift and wanted to sleep.

She offered to come down on his 'break' and 'have lunch'. Code for more intimate actions.

He would tell her he can't. He had a fill in the blank length of time in surgery.

On rare occasions he would let her come up he would always seem distant. Distracted. Tired.

She was willing to hang in there by his side but then he told her he was leaving her. It wasn't working. That he'd been having an affair.

It hurt. A lot. She was angry. Check that. She was _still_ angry. If he was going to ry and get back with her there was some things he was going to have to change. He'd have to quit his job. Find something else. Maybe open a private practice somewhere in the city.

She put her hand on the door knob.

He'd have to sleep on the couch for two – no – _three_ months.

She turned the knob.

He would have to make some grand effort to winning her back. She didn't know what that meant. She would let that be a surprise. But he wasn't going to just waltz in and say "Hey Kate" and expect her clothes to fall off.

She pushed the door open.

He would definitely have to start over with winning me. Maybe I'll make him joust. Then the image of Josh on a horse in clunky, slightly rusted armor popped in and she imagined him charging towards a knight in even shinier armor charging back at him.

Odd.

Then the bright flash of orange fireball caught her vision.

Johanna cheering at the display.

Alex trying hard not to toss the flaming pan out of his hands.

And Josh shouting "Flambe!" with each spouted fireball.

Kate screamed.

Josh greeted her with "Hey Kate!"

Kate immediately took off her jacket and went to try and suffocate the fire.

She threw her coat on it and, it being a super heated alcohol based flame, quickly burned a hole through it.

"Kate I'm trying to teach my man how to cook!"

He grabbed her coat and tore it off the pan and stomped on it until the flame stopped. Alex stayed focused, by some miracle, and with the spatula in his hand he flipped the meat or whatever the beautifully garnished lump was in the pan.

Then a timer went off.

"My asparagus!" Alex shouted.

Josh moved to open the oven but slipped slightly on Kate's charred coat. He kicked it out of the way and put on an oven mitt before less than gracefully removing the pyrex pan of beautifully portrayed asparagus.

Kate moved around the island in the kitchen and before she stepped into the designated cooking zone she stopped, noticing the flour, oil and various things that should be on food were on the floor.

"Oh my god! What are you guys doing?" She started to laugh.

Johanna lifted a glass with wine in it.

"Bonding sweet heart. The family that burns the kitchen down together, stays together."

Kate got it.

He was trying to win her back. This wasn't the grand gesture she had hoped for. He was going to have to do better than this.

**DR OFFICE**

"The doctor will see you know."

The gentleman was short but polite and Rick immediately figured he could take him in a fight.

He walked through the doorway and guided to a heavy wooden door which was opened by the man and Rick was met with a smiling, leaner man.

"Hello, Rick. I've been waiting for you."

Rick sat down in the leather couch in the middle of the room.

The leathery crunchy give was loud at first and apparent but as he settled in it the sound quieted and became comfortable.

The door closed and it was just the two of them.

"My interest aside what brings you to me?"

Rick's mind spun a quick fabrication.

"Doctor's say I got a concussion and some memory loss. Been working a case and my account of what's going on is fuzzy. I'd like to keep this between us."

"I understand. You have two advantages going with me Richard. Patient doctor privilege and I'm also a chaplain so you have the seal of confession. Nothing you say can ever be repeated unless you want someone else to know."

Rick relaxed a little bit. Momentarily forgetting his assignment to find out this guys connection to a serial killer after Becket he eased his posture.

"So how does this work?"

"We talk."

"That's it."

"Yes, Rick. That's it."

The doctor began sketching something on his notepad.

"Well what's your name and what should I call you?"

"What's in a title? My name is Bill but if you'd like to call me doctor or doc or shithead or anything else you are welcome to."

"Anything?" Rick inquired.

"If you think calling me names would help you I don't see why not. However if you are serious about your recovery, I'm assuming you are, respect is usually the way to receive the guidance you want."

Rick was silent.

_Interesting._

"So what should we talk about?" He asked.

"That's up to you. Let's start simple. How was your day?"

"Don't know."

"You don't know?"

Rick was already irritated. "It wasn't good or bad it just kind of is. Ya'know?"

"Tell me." Said Bill.

"Well, I went to work-"

"What do you do?"

"Detective. Ninth precinct."

"Do you enjoy your job?"

"Well … Yeah."

"You hesitated."

"So?"

"Just an observation." Bill continued sketching on his notepad.

"Well –" Rick stopped half anticipating another interruption. "- everyone greeted me when I got to work. I'd been in the hospital and had a few days off to recover. Then I got back to work on the case I'm on and I've been having these flashes. Like storms in my brain."

"Um hm."

"That's it?" Rick asked.

"Well if you feel it's important Richard you should talk about it."

"I keep remembering things only I don't know if their a memory or if my brain is sneezing all over itself and can't wipe away the snot."

"Brains don't sneeze, Mr. Castle."

"It's a metaphor, doc."

"I'm familiar with the concept." Then Bill put all of his focus on Richard. "Tell me about your home life."

"I live alone. I work. That's about it."

"You have friends? Lovers? Family?"

"Well yeah I got all that. I do well with the ladies and I got a few buddies I hang out with at the bar. Why?"

"How about your family?"

"Mom. Dad. Only child. Not much to say."

Bill put the notepad down.

"Tell me about your father, Rick."

Rick was silent and stretched his neck muscles side to side.

"My dad is dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"No you're not." Rick snapped.

"Why do think I'm not sorry?" Bill asked.

"Because if you were sorry you'd apologize for bringing it up."

Bill sighed. Folded his hands and locked eyes with Richard. For just a moment it appeared that Bill was reading his mind.

"Let me explain what I'm trying to do Mr. Castle. We talk and I try and get you to remember."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. It's that simple."

"What if I don't want to talk?"

"Then here's my card. Call me and set an appointment when you're ready to talk."

Richard got up and took the card from his hand.

"He was murdered. My father. Big reason why I'm a cop."

Bill sized him up. "That was hard."

"Damn right it was." Rick countered.

Bill pointed to the couch with an open hand and picked up the notepad. Began sketching something.

Rick turned and sat back down.

"Are you familiar with any type of behavioral therapy, Richard?"

"Not really." Rick didn't quite feel comfortable but the doctor's voice was steady, calm and reassuring and he decided he didn't have a reason to panic so he relaxed.

"Well there's prescription drugs, cognitive therapy and a small group of therapists have come to utilize the tool of hypnotherapy. Say for helping to quit smoking."

"You want to hypnotize me?" Rick inquired.

"Well technically the first step is already done. A soothing, silent room. Comfortable setting. A nice consistent voice to guide you. I've already begun. Technically it's really no different than the ads that come on before a movie in the theaters or radio commercials. It's consistency. The real secret to having it work though is the willingness of the subjects mind."

Rick didn't know if he should be offended or thankful. He felt glad to confronted with the lesson and to given such honesty.

"I can't make you remember or do something that isn't what you want to do or remember. Patients who are under hypnosis aren't going to do something they don't want. I can't make you kill unless you want to. I can't make you fall in love. I can make you act like it, if you're willing, but the want to do it must already be there."

Bill put the notepad back down.

"The question is Mr. Castle is do you really want to remember?"

Suddenly Rick realized exactly how much trouble he was in.

He peaked at the card in his hand and saw the name "William Bracken".

He was going to have to read into this guy after this session was done.


	9. Chapter 9

When Rick was awakened from his subconscious play date he noticed the room around him. Everything seemed the same but just as one wakes up from a nap he required a moment to blink and focus and adjust his eyes. The book case behind the doctor was mahogany. The degrees and certificates on the wall needed to be dusted.

"Rick I'd like you to remember everything we did."

And then he snapped awake and was present. Everything came back. He remembered the room with a bowl of fruit. He remembered talking about his father. How he was always just out of reach. Then Kevin Ryan holding hands with the little girl he dreamed about. He led her a chair next to Kate. They smiled at Rick. _Family._

Why the hell did he think that?

Then Kate standing and everything else fell away. She went to the bowl of fruit. Fruit was a general term but it was actually these large, grapey, possibly prune things. She picked one up and took a bite out of it. Smiled, ate it and walked away.

His father again just out of reach. Ghostly pigmented and a voice, Bill's voice, "What is he saying Rick?"

"Nothing." Rick remembered responding. "He just staring at me."

Then a countdown. "5…4…3…2…"

His father fading into the blackness of the back of his eyelids.

"One."

Rick's eyes opened.

Now here he was and Bill was scrawling on his notepad.

"Do you remember?"

Rick nodded.

"Rick you have not forgotten."

Then the doctor had some personality.

"I'd like to see you again. Same time next week?"

"Uh, y-y-yeah, s-s-sure – umm, okay." Rick rubbed his palms on his pants. They seemed clammy and weighed down.

"That stutter is a side effect. It will go away when you leave."

Rick was baffled. _Stutter? The hell? He gave me a stutter?_

Bill must have noticed the look on Rick's face.

"When dealing with trauma of your particular nature, short term loss, during the recovery process the speech is slightly impeded. Different connections are made between the motor function region and the frontal lobe during hypnosis. Most likely due to the fact that a portion of the brain is rerouted to make up for the synaptic damage. To fill the gap of neurotransmitters sometimes the memories can be false but the connections are being made. So a car can represent the moon or fear or a cigar can mean adulthood or whatever. It's up to you to figure those out. Honestly from what I'm hearing it must have been minor damage to the amygdale, which would account for only a short gap of time being missed. It's in there and the chemistry in your brain wasn't jostled so everything's working properly. It'll just take time."

That was probably the most intelligent thing Rick had heard said in years. He got it. He didn't have any sever damage but it was like his last text wasn't sent due to network issues. Or something like that…

Still Rick stared.

"Once you leave this office your speech pattern will return. Subconsciously doorways are like memory resents. Explains why we don't remember where we put something or did something until we wander around the house a bit. By the time you get to the sidewalk you'll remember to show up again and we can revisit. Your speech will come back."

Rick stood still in awe at how the heck this guy knew all this stuff. Or even if it was true.

"See the secretary on the way out?"

"Yeah." Rick said.

Rick opened the door and left and he thought about what he remembered. That bowl of fruit irritated him the most.

He rescheduled for next week and entered the elevator that would take him to the street.

The little girl made sense. Weird that she was in the session but made sense.

His father. Silent and dead looking made sense.

Ryan made sense. His buddy at the precinct.

That bowl of fruit. Or the bowl of purple things, whatever they were, bothered him.

He got to the sidewalk. He wanted to see Kate. He had some questions but first he had to go to the grocery store.

**LOFT**

He was laughing which was a good sign. Something had changed. That happy, charming man she had married was indeed genuinely happy.

"More wine?" He offered.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" She countered.

"Of course!"

She smiled. "No thank you." She didn't want to make a mistake. She didn't want baby-daddy drama right now. It was difficult enough that her guard was lowered because he seemed changed but starting a relationship type thing with now would make her a hypocrite. She had told herself she wasn't going to cave and she wasn't.

"So what's the good news?" She asked.

He gave a small grin.

She asked because Alex had gone to bed. Her mother had exited as well and since this was her place she was going to have her answer on her terms.

The dinner had been excellent and talk had been friendly. Her mother even made a passing reference to his infidelity about he "likes to change his mind" and he took the shot. He deserved that and he stated bac, "You're right. But you know it's not greener on the other side. It's greener where you water it."

The obvious subtext revealing his angle in being there. Kate couldn't help but appreciate that she missed him a little and smiled.

Now she waiting for him to explain himself.

"I've been accepted as head of surgery."

She waited for the 'and…' that should follow.

"I'll have less hours at work. Getting paid more. All of that stuff."

"Good for you." She commented unimpressed.

"I broke up with Camille." The harlot he cheated on her with.

"So you want me back I take it." She assumed.

"Well, yes, I do but I know I hurt you Kate. I don't know if you'll ever let me back in. I'm sorry for what I did and whatever you decide I understand but what I was wanting more than anything is time with Alex. I missed out on so much with him. Wanted to be in his life."

He seemed sincere.

She had always left that door open. She wouldn't deny that relationship. If they wanted to connect, or not, she would let them decide.

Endeared by his want she took a deep breath.

If she let him in there was a chance he would try and get back in. She wasn't strictly opposed to that but he would have to do more than just start showing up.

"Why did you chat on me?"

He'd been beat up by subtle hints of him being a cheater for periods of time after the divorce and he'd been with Camille for a few years, as far as she could tell, before tonight and she didn't want to chip away at him anymore.

"I honestly don't know Kate. I do know that I felt I had two lives. One I was the famous Kate Beckett's husband. The other I was a neurosurgeon and everyone counted on me. People looked up to me. Told me how brilliant I was and how lucky I must be."

She didn't quite get it but she listened.

"My job got between us. I never hated or resented you making more money. It was never about that. I just remember thinking that work felt like home and here…"

She was hurt by the implications but she tried to empathize.

"… our marriage became the job. I don't when I changed but I don't want that anymore. I don't want to be a sperm donor dad to Alex or just some cheating scum to you. I feel like things weren't that bad before and I just …"

He trailed off. He was usually a little more articulate than this.

"I don't know if we can ever get back to the way we were but my work isn't my life anymore. I made mistakes I will tell you how sorry I am I did them for the rest of my life if I need to Kate, don't you think we ought to try again? Start over? Maybe just be friends and see what happens?"

She sighed. Finally he came out with it.

_So he wins with getting me back. Loses with a relationship with Alex. Conniving bastard._

The thought was intrusive and she couldn't help but think it.

She rubbed her forehead before telling the thought it was just the ashes form the emotional wreckage she had cleaned up.

Now he was wanting another chance. _Because it was more convenient for him._

There it was again. The hurt. Maybe capitalize it. Hurt. Give a face and a name.

_It would look like him_.

The Hurt was being a bully now.

"I don't think I can let you back in." Part of her hurt saying it out loud.

"I don't think I can. You hurt me, Josh."

She eyes teared up a little finally saying it to his face. All of these years and she never told him. She could swear she saw him tear up as well.

"I know Kate."

"It still hurts."

"I know."

"If you are ever going to be let in again there are some things I need to see."

"I know."

She couldn't believe she just said that. She was giving him a chance. Well actually a chance at a chance. A 'game' to win in order to get a chance of a chance. A sort of emotional plinko. _God I hate that game._ She thought.

"Tell me. What is it you need to see?" Josh motioned to wipe something out of his eyes and positioned his body to face her giving her all his attention.

"I'm not even sure what that is!" She laughed with the trace of a cry in it.

A moments pause and he spoke up, "Let's go somewhere. See someone. Do something."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Hamptons. Spend a few weeks up there and you can yell and swear at me and I'll beg and plead." He was deflecting the awkwardness with humor.

"It'll be fun!" He joked. Trying to brighten the otherwise dark emotions they were both feeling.

Then there was a knock on the door.

**GROCERY STORE – ONE HOUR BEFORE**

_Where the hell is it?_

He entered the store determined to find what could possibly not be there. By the time he had crossed this doorway he only remembered that the fruit was purple and roundish and definitely not a grape.

He went to the produce section. Saw the color of various fruits and vegetables and began sorting through them.

He tried to remember what was in the bowl his subconscious wanted him to see.

_Banana._ He reached to grab it but something was telling him to pick something different. A cerebral 'Let's Make A Deal' game played in his head. Sections of his brain telling him to pick either door one, two or three.

He kept his hand extended and began walking sideways down the section. Almost hoping the desired item would magically float into it. As if he was some fruit Jedi wielding the force to summon the sacred fruit.

_Oranges._ No. Too big.

_Grapes. _Been over this. No.

_Plums._ Close. He took a few just in case and put them in a plastic bag to carry.

_Cantalope. Tasty but no._

_Grapefruit._ The illegitimate relative of the orange. No.

He was nearing the end of the section and it wall 'No'.

Plums had made the cut for some reason. Why plums? Maybe it was prunes he was looking for.

He turned and scoured shelves for prunes. Hoping they would trigger something. Something Kate could decipher for him.

He grabbed a glass jar of pickled prunes. Salted prunes. Unsalted prunes. Prunes in a box and a plastic container of something in the prune section. It was a small section but not small enough to throw out pickled prunes.

He put them all in the plastic bag and went to the check out.

He paid cash and read the funny look on the cashier's face.

"Doctor's orders." He said. Then the cashier's face went wrinkly, hiding a horrible sense of disgust.

_Great, well she must think I'm trying to pass a bowling ball._

He left the store and headed towards Kate's loft.

**HALLWAY – OUTSIDE KATE'S LOFT**

He didn't want to knock but he needed answers so he did.

When she answered he noticed reddened eyes and happy-to-see you look on her face.

Then he saw Josh on the couch.

She spotted the purple produce in his arms.

The both had questions.

"What's going on?" The both asked.

She smiled. Serendipity was a beautiful thing.

He went first. "I need your help. I saw a guy for the memory thing and I bought these."

She was confused but intrigued.

"Josh is here and we talking about something –"

"The brain doctor? Good maybe he can help!"

He pushed past her before she ' –important'.

Rick put the assorted purple pile of produce on the kitchen island and turned to her.

"Does any of this," he waived his hand over the pile, "mean _anything_ to you?"

"What kind of doctor did you say you saw?" She asked.

"I don't know just… is any of this important? Think. Does this remind you of anything?"

"Prunes."

"Yes. Prunes."

A long pause.

"Not that I can think of."

"Damnit!" Rick shouted.

"Excuse me? I can come back later." It was Josh.

"Oh! Josh yeah this the detective I've been following. Richard. Josh. Josh. Richard."

The two men waived as casually to each other as one would to another at an intersection and allowing the other to go first.

Not quite a monumental first encounter.

"It's related to the case I think." Rick said.

Kate was invested in the possible connection now.

Josh stood and walked to her.

"Just think about what I said, okay?" He asked.

"Yeah." She said.

Then he gave her a peck on the cheek, grabbed his jacket and left.

She caught herself blushing and the red complimented the pile of prunes before her.

Rich didn't notice and kept talking. "Yeah the cashier gave me this funny look."

Then he saw her face. Her tears and blushing still able to be seen, something else shined through. Excitement.

"What is it?" He asked.

"These aren't prunes." She opened the plastic container he grabbed in the rush to the cashier.

"What? What are they?"

She took the wrinkled purple fruit out, took a bite and smiled before walking away.

"You brought me dates."

Something sparked in his head.

Then –

_Something in him started to remember_

**LEAVE A REVIEW! THANKS!**


	10. Chapter 10

The voices were quiet for now. It was good to have that serenity because the next step was one he hadn't planned for. That fact alone wasn't what was challenging him though. He had money. He had resources. He had his purpose. His new challenge was his "job". He had to show up to this stupid place and scrub dishes for five hours every third night (typically on Saturday and Wednesday) so he could stay in the halfway house. An unnecessary evil but it provided the cover for his 'employer' to feel safe. That he had control.

"Hey Jerry! We got some glasses from the bar that need to be tossed in there. Cool if you take five?"

Jerry flicked the water and soap off his hands just as another stack of dishes came sliding into this work station. He smiled politely at the woman who had politely asked him to let her do his job and as politely as he was asked he left.

"Yeah. Go for it." Jerry replied.

Jerry walked away and stepped out the back door and pulled out his cigarettes.

He enjoyed smoking and the defiance involved with being a practitioner of the habit. Smoking for him was just another way to flip society the middle finger in disgust. He wasn't overtly confrontational about it but he would get in someone's face about it if they complained. He once even killed a man under the Coney Island docks over it. At least he thought he did. He didn't remember how he managed to get the man down there or how he lured him or even if he had even really killed anyone at all actually but the fantasy of doing felt really enough to him to accept as truth.

The orange glow of flickering flame fascinated him for a moment then he let it die and put it back into his pocket.

A car door closed and he spotted a man and a woman head across the alleyway sidewalk he was waiting in and tried to look uninterested in what they were doing. Since people didn't walk down alleyways at night looking for something legally fun to do Jerry let his peripheral do the watching and stood still and casually puffed on his cigarette. They were a cute couple. He was sure of it. Happy to be out with their partner, casually talking about their boring day, happy to be seen and probably wanted by others yet taken by the one they were with.

_Disgusting._

There was something comforting about them though. Almost familiar.

Almost as if –

Wait a minute.

**SIDEWALK**

"That was the other thing I had to tell you." Rick continued.

She put her arm in his and the touch brought about a poorly concealed smile from him.

"Yes?" Kate asked.

"I've been assigned to you." He stated.

"I know."

"No I mean until this case is over I have to stick on you like glue."

"Oh." Then the revelation struck her. "You mean you have to shadow me."

He didn't like that the tables had turned.

"Since you were the initial target of the attack I have to keep an eye on you, yes."

"So you're like my bodyguard then?"

He sighed grudgingly.

She smiled.

"Let's think of it like 'The Transporter'. I'm a tough, balding British martial artist trying to keep you safe."

"I think bodyguard would work better." Then she broke into song: " _And IIIII –eeeeeee- IIIII will always loooovvvvveee youuuuuuuu- ow whoa! Will allllwwwwaaays_-"

"I have a gun, Beckett."

"Ooooh. For fighting or fun?"

He stopped in his tracks.

"This is for therapeutic and research purposes only! Do you understand?! We go in there and do … this –" he motioned between them "-then we go back to your place."

"Yeah?" She asked. She was excited like a kid that had been told what her Christmas gifts were on Christmas Eve.

"Just to see if anything else comes back to my broken head."

She pulled herself closer.

"You're not broken Castle. Just bent." She straightened his collar. Ran her hand through his hair, teasing him, fixing him up like he was going to get baptized and he needed to look good for Jesus.

"Stop that!" He lightly tapped her hand out of his personal space but she kept her arm in his.

They both continued walking towards the entrance of her favorite restaurant.

A burger joint called 'Remy's' .

**RESTAURANT**

The lights were low and music played. Something modern and mildly resemebling remixes and remakes of "classic" songs. Beyonce singing "My love has come around", Harry Connick Jr or Mike Buble singing some catchy piano tune. A nice setting for modern lovers seeking a nod to throwback style of big band or piano songs.

A freckle faced red headed girl greeted Richard at the door with an enthusiastic smile and "Hi welcome to Remy's" that only the energy of youth could provide.

"Two please." He said only half noticing the girl.

"Booth or table?"

Beckett was quick to say booth and they were guided to a corner booth where the low hanging light enhanced the romance in the air.

Rick was not nearly picking up on the romantic ambiance but he was hungry. Getting something in him would probably help.

"So this research, what does it involve?" She asked.

"I guess asking questions?"

"Questions like?"

"I don't know. I'm on this date to try and remember why I had to take you on a date. What kind of questions do you think you should ask?"

The poor man had no idea.

She pondered her first question. Wanted to start off aggressive. See what she could get.

"Do you remember our first kiss?"

He nearly spit the water out of his mouth.

"New rule. Don't ask me questions while I'm trying to take a drink."

"Answer the question Rick."

"I remember …" He trailed off and she watched hid eyes go lax as his mind replayed the moment.

_Her fingers traced his scar._

"_I don't know if I should strangle you or kiss you."_

"_Let me help you decide."_

_Kiss._

_Lips._

_Soft._

_Hot._

_His shirt pulled down. She wasn't afraid of his scar._

Wait. She was drugged. Wasn't she? Did I drug her? Why do I think she's drugged?

Crazy face. Amy. Knife attack. Amy.

"Who's Amy?"

Kate lowered her brow a moment.

"Amy?"

Yeah. Who's Amy?"

"She's the girl who drugged me and tried to kill you."

"Oh." That didn't jog anything to his memory. "What else?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Then ask me something else."

She sat back. Looked away for a moment and thought of her next one.

"I already know the answer to this one but I'll ask you. What's your favorite color?"

"Red." He answered quickly.

"No it's not. You like red as a complimentary color sure. That's not your favorite."

"You're going to sit there on our date and tell me what my favorite color is?"

The waitress stepped in, a nice lady, glasses, college student and commented, "Trouble in paradise! Are you two married yet?"

He said, "No," She said "Not yet," Earning his ired glance.

The waitress cooed, "Aww! How cute! Okay what would you like to start out with?"

"Water." Rick said.

"Bucket of beers. Variety pack." Kate interrupted.

The waitress left to fetch the drinks.

"I'm getting the truth out of you one way or the other." She told Rick.

"You think I'm lying?"

"I know you're lying."

"Oh really?"

She picked up the menu and looked at it for a few seconds before lowering it and saying –

"Poker face. When you think you need to lie you don't show emotion. A good play during interrogation but not when you're on a date with a writer."

She was going to make him crack.

Rick was getting annoyed. Check that. He wanted to get the date over with now.

"Next question."

She paused pondering her next question. Her eyes narrowed.

She could tell him everything that he told her. That she found out. The history, what he did in school, the Marines but knowing the truth what he would filter out interested her more.

"What do your parents do for a living?"

He was quiet. Straight faced. It felt like a scripted question. Something a therapist would ask.

"What are you doing, Kate?" His tone just below inquisitive and a step above angry. A subconscious reflex to him telling her 'Don't go there'.

"You wanted me to ask you questions. I'm asking. If you're going to pull this Alpha male bullshit – "

A man's hand put the bucket of beers on the table.

"Thanks." She said without looking.

"No problem." The man said as he walked away.

"If you're going to pull the alpha male crap then I'll ask something else but if you really want to remember and want serious help answer the damn question."

Rick grabbed a beer out of the bucket.

"You wanted this. Remember?" She said

He did.

"My mother is an actress. Her name is Martha and she teaches at Ridgemont High School."

"And your dad?"

"Dead." Castle guzzled the beer back. He had hoped that was the end of it. She wouldn't pry. Of course that's like asking a hammer not to hit nails.

"How'd he die?" It shocked him how she asked. No politeness. No societal graciousness. Just point blank.

He saw his hand gripping the beer and the wrinkles in his hand. The wrinkles telling the story of someone who was working hard to bury something. Like the hands of the man who placed the bucket of beers down. Rick was lucky. He had a tragic life to some degree but here he was. A detective having a date with a beautiful woman who was simultaneously annoying and a joy to have around. She was a sickness. The kind of sickness you have when you're a kid and miss school. Glad to miss school but you're still sick. You get to watch cartoons and have soup or ice cream or whatever but you have a fever and can't really do anything fun. The worst possible kind of day off.

_There must be something wrong with me. Gettin' all these dumb feelings._

"He was killed in an alleyway." Rick straightened his back a bit then drank the rest of the beer.

She had hoped that her question would trigger something to connect but it seemed the connections were random.

"I'm sorry to hear that." She really was. She hoped he noticed it was an apologetic and sympathetic statement.

The waitress appeared with a bucket of beers.

"Oh someone already got you some." She turned to walk away.

"No leave it." Kate said. "We're going to be here awhile."

The waitress did and tilted her head somewhat curiously.

"You're famous aren't you?" She said to Kate.

Typically Kate would embrace a moment like this flaunt her somewhat celebrity status. She was more focused on other things.

"No. Not tonight."

"No, you're Kate Beckett! Ohmygosh! My mom loves your books!"

Rick smiled. "Hear that Kate? Her mom." He opened another beer.

"I've got to tell the champ you're here!"

"No please I'm doing a personal thing here, I'll make it worth your while just please I'd –"

"He's such a _huge _fan! He told me all about your books. He is just crazy about you."

"Look I'll pay you two hundred dollars to just –"

"I'll keep it so quiet! It would really make the champ happy."

Kate spotted the plea in her eyes. The implied _please_ in her posture.

"Please Mrs. Beckett? We call him the champ because his last name is Tyson but he's so quiet it would really break him out of his shell. He's just a really nice guy. Please?"

Kate looked to Rick who was smiling like a jackass. "Yeah Mrs. Beckett. Please?"

**It's about to get real crazy people. Leave a comment!**


	11. Chapter 11

**DAYS BEFORE**

"_Do you remember what he looked like?" The sketch artist smiled as assuringly as he could but he was clearly in new territory._

"_Part of him." Kate said._

"_Do you mind going over what you remember? It would help."_

"_Yeah. He had a goatee. Scruffy. His chin was pronounced but not sharp."_

"_Okay." The sketch artist quickly put a few lines on the page._

"_Not like Leno or anything but it was proportioned to his face and symmetrical."_

_The artist nodded as if those things were somehow computable._

_The face on the paper already had the typical egg shape on it resembling the human head and the sketch artist shaded and shaped it to match the description as best he could._

"_Not pointed. Slightly square."_

_The artist erased a few lines then continued._

"_How about his eyes? What color were they?"_

_She closed her eyes to remember. Nothing came to her mind's eye except that hood._

"_Just his hood. It covered his face. It was gray and wet."_

"_Okay." He said blandly. He drew a line through the nose and constructed a hood over the face._

_Before long all that was really determined was that the attacker had a chin and mouth. Mouth like any other and a chin that Kate seemed to remember more than anything else._

"_The unibomber would be proud." She said noticing the outright vagueness of the portrayal._

"_You remember anything else?"_

"_He smelled like soap and cigarettes."_

_The artist wrote down a few notes ._

"_Anything else?"_

_Kate lowered her head in disgust. "White. Mid 30's. That's it."_

_That was when Kevin Ryan came over and informed her they were taking Rick to the hospital._

**NOW**

Rick cracked open the forth beer in the bucket and declared to himself he was finally going to relax. He wasn't going to let his habitual bad mood screw an increasingly enjoyable evening. It may have been the beer. It may have been the atmosphere. It probably was the gorgeous woman across from him on the edge of her seat with random questions that seemed to pour out like water from a cliff. It was probably a combination of all three plus the fact that he was being surprised by her questions.

"What cars have you owned?" "A Camaro in high school. A Harley in college."

She snorted. It was stereotypical of him. Being that predictable was actually a relief from the answers she was getting before.

"Dream vacation?" "Island in the tropics for one week with Miss July."

She took note of that.

"Mets or Yankees?" " Dodgers."

It was a lie but she let him have it.

"What religion?" "Raised Catholic. Reformed though."

She would have to dig deeper on that. Maybe let that rest. See what happens…

"Knicks or Nets?" "Pacers."

Kate was slightly upset. She hadn't been a Knicks fan until Reggie Miller and Spike Lee traded gestures at a playoff game. It got to her into sports. Not for the game but the personalities.

"Where do you what to go when you retire?"

He smiled.

"Everywhere." He took one last sip as the food was brought out.

Rick had the halibut and vegetable medley. A sliced lemon propped nicely on the moist flesh of peppered fish.

Kate had the filet mignon with a balsamic Mediterranean fusion salad.

They took a few bites and the silence of savoring took over the table.

"How about you?" He started.

"What's your favorite color?" He glanced up to see she was wearing a smile.

"Guess?" She challenged.

He took one last bite and looked at her. His eyes twinged as he noticed things.

"Going with purple."

"How'd you know!" She exclaimed.

He let the buttered flesh of the finned food sit before he finally swallowed it down.

"Blue seemed to traditional and you've only worn colors fitting for the fall. Purple has that nice transition feel. From clear skies to sunset. Which you're probably a huge fan of. With how the sun hits the methane in the city I'm sure it glows from your loft."

She laughed.

"Yes the wastelands look almost tolerable during the sunset," She looked off into the distance as if she was a king remembering a time when something needed conquering.

He smiled. "First boyfriend." The question was now a command. She was happy to obey.

"Tommy Vaughn, Third grade. You?"

"Jessica Ritchey. Junior year."

"Really? Junior? I had you pegged as a playboy from the beginning."

"Late bloomer I guess. What'd you want to be when you grow up?"

"Astronaut." She knew the answer but asked anyway, "You?"

He slowed as something was jogged in his memory.

"What is it?" She probed.

"Déjà vu." He put the fork down and wiped his mouth off.

"We've done this before in a car." She leaned forward.

He looked down. Was this a trap? What was she doing? Did they go on a date before?

"What else do you remember Rick?"

He took a slow breath in and relaxed. Something about a car came to mind…

Driving. Question. What's with the questions? Nick Heat. Is that? Wait…

"Who's Nick Heat?"

She nearly jumped out of her seat.

"My character I'm basing off of you!" She quieted down right away. She didn't realized she was shouting until it was probably a little to late.

Her excitement made him jump then laugh. Her spontaneous outburst was perhaps a little more animated than he had expected.

"You're basing a character off me?"

"Yes!"

He laughed before saying "Well that's just stupid!"

"What!? Why is that stupid?!" She wasn't hurt but she'd put well over a hundred pages into the character so she was defensive of her creation.

"Who wants to read about a cop that can't even remember his own girlfriend?"

She was silenced. _Girlfriend!_

She wanted to be offended but then it occurred to her –

_What a twist! Maybe Nick could have some malady where a girlfriend or love interest sticks around because she helps him to … something … it's there. There's something there. Wait. Derek's fiancé. Nick's sister. Maybe … wait … he's Nick and she's Nikki. That's stupid. Call him John. John until you think of something better. John falls in love with femme fatale. Crap I gotta come up with a femme fatale. Maybe alcoholism. That'd be easier. John's worn down. Coming to sisters aid and he is called to vengeance. Kills while he has the shakes from withdrawal. Oooo that's good. Very Man on Fire. Denzel was awesome in that movie. Slowly walk away as something explodes. Maybe John could do that._

_Wait - Did he just call me his girlfriend?_

"Do guys find that look cute?" He interrupted her thoughts.

Between the idea, her memory and his statement she had been rendered effectively mute.

"What look?" She finally responded.

"That stunned escape look. Your jaw loosens and you look like your reading a book that isn't there."

"I… what?"

"Your eyes glaze over too." He took another swig of beer. "Like your having an orgasm."

She blushed hard.

_I look like I'm having an orgasm when I'm inspired?_

_Does he remember? Is that what I look like?_

The idea of testing his observation out in front of a mirror crossed her mind but she stopped when she saw a man with a plain white T-shirt shyly step to the table.

"Mrs. Beckett?"

She looked up to see him but he was taller than the waitress and the contrast from the light of the low hanging lamp made it hard to pick out details from the chest up.

"Yes?" She said.

The man sat down next to her and right away he struck her as a man that had seen his fair share of tragedy.

"I'm Jerry and I have been following your work for quite some time."

"See Castle! Someone who appreciates fine literature." Kate joked.

Richard rolled his eyes.

"Hi Jerry." Rick looked up from his meal for a moment before wiping his mouth and diving back into the halibut.

Jerry placed his hands on the table calmly and Kate saw that one of them had been wrapped up and the other had been scarred over in a few places.

"Don't mind the hands." Jerry smiled. "I do a lot of work with wet things and they tend to soften my skin. Making them easier to cut."

Something about this guy was off. Not bad off. Just – well it was hard to put a finger on it.

"So," she started hoping to change topic, "I'm glad you read my work. What about my writing do you like?"

"I enjoy the details of how your victims die."

She enjoyed that aspect. Being a killer without killing. For Jerry though the voices began to whisper.

"The way you had Sarah crumbled in that dryer was a thing of beauty."

Kate was snapped to the present. The fog of public persona evaporating.

Rick dropped his fork and the clatter echoed throughout the restaurant.

"I do a bit of writing myself, Kate. I recently completed my first two chapters of a murder mystery. What did you think of it Kate?"

The hands. His chin. His voice.

Somewhere between delight and fear the realization struck her.

A nauseated wave with a splash of adrenaline ran through her. The sensation paralyzing her.

The scent of soap hitting her nostrils as she came to know that she was sitting next to a murderous psychopath.

"I took a lot of time for _mis en scene_ for the couple and I was hoping I could make my work about you Kate but I found someone much more interesting. You see when I looked at that file on your desk I didn't quite realize at first. Then I was told by _them_ –" he tapped his head indicating the voices he hears "I had a much higher purpose. My work now is about deliverance instead of mere entertainment."

Jerry took Rick's water and slid the steak knife away from him. Kate watched the bandaged hand clench the glass. The motion bringing her to Rick's face. His eyes fixed and body ready to explode into an attack.

The knife then picked up by Jerry's free hand.

"I thought I was going to play with you but your friend here, Mister Castle, has so much more to give. So much room for character development. That is why I have come out here."

Jerry drank a huge gulp and placed the glass down. He turned over his hands to show the scars on his wrist.

"When I was younger I thought I was possessed and had to rid the world of my evil."

Rick moved slowly towards the middle of the bench.

"Ah ah ah, Richard. You move any further and I will tear her throat out before you can lay a finger on me. I will give you your surprise soon enough."

Jerry's attention went back to Kate.

"Watch him Kate. I think he likes you."

Jerry smirked.

"I came to realize that what a better way to die then by the hands of an artist. Such as yourself. They want you dead but I see a certain poetic justice in an artist killing another. A commercial success shooting a rising genius. Like Salieri killing Mozart. Kind of."

Jerry drank some more water.

"Mozart actually died of strep throat but I think you get the idea, Kate."

Jerry stood out of the booth.

"There's two more bodies I placed for you to find. I don't know if Amy remembers but she can help you I'm sure. I was then going to lead you on a chase. You would appreciate it Kate it was going to end on a rooftop. Gun shot wound to the chest."

Jerry made his free hand to the shape of a gun, lowered his thumb and winked at him. "Bang."

Kate's eyes went to Rick pleading for him to do something.

"I saw that you were looking at his father's case…"

Rick's face showed the surprise he couldn't contain.

"… and it was as if the planets aligned."

Jerry wiped the steak knife with his forearm.

"Now as I walk away I'm sure you'll pursue me. It'd be smart to wait because I am very capable of killing any numerous workers in the kitchen. That fry cook is just begging to have his throat slit. Enough people have died already."

Jerry stood in silence and in the passive holding of the knife he remembered something. Brought the knife to his own head and tapped his skull with it.

Richard remembered something too.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Jerry continued. "I know who killed your father, Rick."

Jerry took a step back.

"So wait for me to go through the kitchen door there. Count to ten and go out the back door. Catch me? One more thing!" The gesture scared her. "Do leave a large tip for your waitress. She is trying to make her way through medical school."

He looked at Kate.

"We don't all have millions to explore our purpose now do we?"

Then he took several more steps until his back was to the swinging doors.

He gave one last smile before kicking the doors open.

The fear and shock faded slightly before Rick shot out of the booth and waited.

_He was counting_

One … Two… Three…

Hoping he didn't hear screams from the kitchen.

Four… Five… Six…

He remembered everything about Kate now. The betrayal. The passion. How he wished he could do it differently.

Seven… Eight… Nine…

_Son of a bitch knew who killed my father._

Ten!

**Thoughts?**


	12. Chapter 12

**Long break I know. Had to weave a plot out a little bit more then had to ponder the fight. I don't take action scenes lightly. I love writing them so I want to make sure I do it right.**

Rick smashed through the swinging doors shoulder first almost knocking someone over. He scanned the kitchen quickly for him and spotted the back door closing. Rick weaved through the kitchen and made his way to the door then stopped. Imagined Jerry on the other side of the door.

Deep breath then –

_WHAM_

The door flung open and slammed against the concrete wall of the alleyway.

Nothing. Rick checked his angles. Drew his gun and went through the door.

He heard a subtle splash and turned to his right and a figure was turning the corner to the left.

He lowered the gun and ran.

The much and rats parting like some sewer dwelling Moses. His footing solid and pushing him forward he arrived at the corner.

It was night in the city. Street lights were on as people were out. Lots of people. He took a second to see that he and the pursuant weren't the only one's running. A night jogger. A dog walker.

He'd have to look for something that indicates a path. People coming back together from being parted. Turned heads looking at someone that was running in jeans away from a man with a gun. Maybe a 'Hey buddy' from a man being bumped into.

Something caught his eyes as on the other side of the street as a woman pushing a baby carriage was adjusting something that had been knocked down or off or over. He jogged over to her and walked past then saw Jerry's figure sprinting away.

"NYPD!" He shouted.

The baby in the carriage began crying. No time to say sorry.

Rick was in an all out sprint. He was going to catch up to this guy. Find out what he knows then put the 'cuffs on him.

What few people were on the sidewalk had moved to make way for the pursuit. He put the gun in his holster as best he could. He was closing in.

_Come on Rick! Closer!_

Jerry darted into a building and up the stairs. His smile barely staying on his face.

His masterpiece seemed abridged but no less beautiful now.

Second floor –

Jerry heard "Freeze!" from Rick's familiar voice.

Third and a half floor –

Jerry peaked down the stairwell and saw Rick's face with gun pointed towards-

_BANG_

The gun making splinters of the wood near his feet before ricocheting from the metal posts for the handrail and fling off into the somewhere else that was the surroundings.

Jerry smiled. _Reckless._ Still he climbed.

Fifth floor –

The foot steps still in pursuit and gaining until he finally saw the roof access door. He slammed into it and opened it.

Here he would make his stand and reveal the end.

Rick reached the door and redrew the gun. With an explosive thrust of his leg he kicked the door open. Nothing. No one. He checked the angles and corners and slowly walked through.

He moved slowly checking as many places in sight as possible. The fans, water tower base, vents that guided the air conditioning into the building.

"Richard Castle." The voice came from behind him. He spun and pointed the gun.

"Put your hands on your head now!"

Jerry put his hands up about shoulder height. "Richard would you kindly put the gun away so that we can discuss this like gentlemen?"

He didn't know why but he lowered the gun. His surroundings became slightly hazy.

He made out Jerry's smile as he jubilantly exclaimed while clapping, "It works!"

Richard wanted to shake his head. To refocus but he was so numb. Distant.

"Which means you don't want to shoot me. Hmmm… this could be fun."

Jerry paced to and fro tapping his chin.

"Alright I have an idea then. Mano y mano. You and I. Winner takes all. Would you kindly battle me in hand to hand combat my dear Richard?"

Rick placed the gun on the ground and began to gain focus.

Jerry motioned his arms out to his side suggesting 'Hear I am' before finally saying "Sempre Fi" in a low roar.

The world clear now Rick acknowledged back, "Oorah."

Then Jerry charged. A fool's tactic. Typical maneuver someone who couldn't fight on their feet would pull. Rick had seen this too many times. A punch doesn't work since the momentum often brushes the impact off and very rare is the punch that cancel the force of the momentum.

A seething two hundred pounds of honey badger madness bearing down on him. Rick knew, in theory, how to offset any advantage.

When someone is faster – Be stronger.

When someone is stronger – Be smarter.

When someone is smarter – Be faster.

When they are all three – Be quieter.

Rick took the tackle head on. Jerry's attack spearing him; lifting him off his feet and weightless until the blast of surface hit his back. Rick exhaled letting the air flow and readying his body for another inhale instantly. He could the blow but he needed to make sure he was able to breath. Jerry screamed throwing punches down on him and Rick put his arms up to block. His forearms dampening the punishing blows. A wrecking ball on steel would be nicer. Rick had to do something.

Rick kept his guard up. He knew his life was at risk and he wouldn't dare offer the madman something as sweet and precious as a limb. A jab misplaced meant he would expose himself.

Several punches in Rick got the rhythm of the attack down. It was an adrenaline, rage, flurry of anger. A bullied kid exploding on a classmate. The punishing blows were becoming weaker with each impact. The pauses for reloading cocked fists growing longer and longer.

It was Rick's turn.

He inhaled quickly three times without exhaling. A trick he learned from an Aikido master years ago. A way to conjure adrenaline. Much like a person does when they land in cold water and their testicles try to inhabit the persons throat.

A fisted right hand came straight down and that was the opening he was waiting for.

Rick tilted his head to the right and felt the gravel fly into left cheek from the impact. Rick dropped his hand back to trap it. Jerry brought down his left fist to crush Rick's skull in but Rick tilted again and now both his hands were ensnared and his body was falling forward. Rick bucked his hips and this sent him down to the surface landing hard on his side.

They squirmed trying to gain the upper hand and it was Rick who quickly slid his out and slammed a balled fist underneath Jerry's armpit. Knocking some air out and stunning him slightly causing him to lower his resistance to the fight.

Castle quickly half pushed himself up and as Jerry's arms tucked in response to the punch Rick through a quick right cross to the face crunching his nose. The blow doing little cosmetically but more intended to keep the killer from seeing what happened next, Rick now on his knees put his full weight on Jerry in a sidemount and rained down blows to the killers face. When Jerry would raise his arms to protect Rick applied weight, straightened a leg out and shot the knee through the guard to his midsection to open up his face again. The reaction to protect his organs exposed him to Rick to proceed to try and make his face a Picasso painting.

Rick stood finally and the killer rolled away. Rick's chest heaved for oxygen and the bruises and scrapes now were screaming their presence to him.

"Why-" Rick spat out.

"Why Kate?"

Jerry pushed himself up. Nursing a few broken ribs. Then Rick knew the fight wasn't over yet because the bloodied face of his suspect was smiling. Then the laughing was heard.

"You," Jerry wagged a finger at him, "have a lot of fight in you. It's going to be fun to see you cry."

Rick seethed with anger.

"You aren't going to kill me, Rick. You might have in the past but not anymore."

Then Jerry knuckled his fists.

"C'mon Rick. Let's see where that killer went."

The Rick charged. Then remembered –

The mission was FUBAR before they even landed. He'd seen this kind of thing before though and he wouldn't be called in if he wasn't needed. He was to do what he did best. Getting off the helicopter was easy enough and downing the two approaching mujahedeen coming around the corner were easy since the reports that he provided stated the forces were strong in number but piss poor in training. To these extremists they'd played too many video games or seen to many movies to know that running out in the open and spraying bullets was stupid.

His unit followed behind him.

The target was Mohammed Al-Jihad Al –Libi Al-something something he didn't care about. He wasn't on any wanted list and they kept it that way for a reason. He was too important for the publicity it would bring. The higher ups had decided he was to stay relatively unknown because they need to track his movements openly rather than let him navigate through underground means. The 'pull start' (as his commanding officer referred to them) had begun to catch wind as he was heading under ground so they needed to move quickly.

The unit they sent in to capture the target was pinned down and as they approached the fire fight they knew they were going to catch a clawed tentacle of fiery hell right as they –

_CRUNCH_

Someone was coming. Rick put a hand up, _Hold,_ made a fist, _Wait_, then drew a knife. Around the corner a barrel of an AK-47 poked out and without a second thought he slapped the weapon down, grabbed the shirt of the body, then drove the knife in the neck, instantly flooding the victim with blood in his own trachea, muting any scream he could have with a gurgle. He held the body up as it went limp to keep the sound body falling from attracting any more attention then he saw the eyes of the victim. A twelve year old boy. Eyes growing more dead by the second.

**PRESENT**

Rick landed the right hook and Jerry's body resisted the inertial spin it should have caused and quickly countered with a jab that dazed Rick but did not cause any lack of focus.

Rick jabbed back and as Jerry slapped the punch away he immediately felt a blow to his knee and an instant later a disgusting pop crackle as his weight gave way. Then the pain of torn ligaments followed.

Jerry screamed. Odd that he added the laughter to it. On the ground and writhing in pain Rick finally had ended the fight.

He lifted Jerry up.

"I won't kill you. But I will make you walk to the precinct with a gun to your head if you don't tell me why."

Jerry screamed again as a smidge of weight was applied to his leg, now bent like a blue jay's. The adrenaline clearly doing all the talking.

"Why?" Jerry said. "You want to know that badly? Why Kate Beckett? Ask yourself Rick – how does someone write with so much knowledge on covert operations when they've been on one?"

"Her books?"

"It's about what her books say, Rick. Panama. Colombia. Texas. Seattle. She wrote all those operations with such great detail didn't she?"

"What are you saying?" Rick slammed him against the wall.

"I'm saying – the murders were for her. Now they are for you. Two more bodies, Rick. Somebody up there must really like you. Just don't screw it all up like your dear ol' Dad did."

Rick let go and the killers weight cause the pain he wanted to inflict.

"You aren't going to kill me Rick. I know everything."

"Tell me."

"I will. That's the whole point."

Rick walked back to his gun. Leaned over to pick it up and raised it as he approached right to Jerry's head.

The voices in Jerry's head hissed. Screamed. Roared. Pleaded in gibberish for action but for once Jerry was able to resist the voices. Staring down the barrel of a gun provided the peace and control he'd bee looking for his whole life.

Jerry leaned into the barrel letting his forehead touch the steel.

"C'mon Killer." He spoke with gritted teeth. "Let's make a man out of you. Do your daddy proud."

Rick backed away and put the gun down.

He turned and saw the one thing he didn't want to see right now.

Kate Beckett with her mouth covered in horror.

**What the holy hell is going on? I know what's happening – do you?**


	13. Chapter 13

"_Go home Kate."_

The words pierced her ears and brought her out of her shock and she followed instruction without hesitation. Quietly and promptly she had returned to the restaurant, left a sizeable tip and went home. Her mother asleep and Alex assumingly falling suit. She was left to replay the night over in her mind.

_Started well enough _

Her thoughts notioned kiddingly.

_Then Tyson_

Her thoughts weren't worded after that but pictures. Her narrative running the nights events in cinematic fashion she remembered the man showing up after the meal was served. A few beers in and conversation was good. They were actually having a good time.

_Then_

Her mental voice providing the 'cut to:' and 'fade in:' that would go in a script:

The increasingly creepiness of the confessed serial killer. Talking about art and killing and knowing about Rick's dad. _What would a raging psychopath know about his dad?_

Jerry Tyson.

Who the ever loving hell was he?

She imagined a scientific capsule filled with some coke clear syrupy gunk covering a naked man in a lab hidden underground. Some white jacket scientists wandering, taking notes, turning dials – _wait do they do dials anymore? It's mostly computers. They'd probably be print and typing –_ slapping keys on keyboards and putting pens in their mouths to hold and drinking from the water cooler and – _Focus! What is the body in the gunk doing?_ – Jerry floating in the bubbly goop – _No it wouldn't be carbonated for christsake, or would it? Maybe it's oxygen for cell replication purposes?_ _Maybe something about fueling mitochondria. That sounds science-y_ – She liked that but as far as feasibility she didn't know if that was possible or even necessary for the story. Probably not but her imagination speeded past all the 'facts' to continue the story.

Something goes wrong. An enzyme is introduced for the final stage and the body in the capsule opens it's eyes. Punches through the container and begins slaughtering scientists left and right. Taser guns don't work. Security guards with batons are downed with a single blow. One last message is released by the hand of the head of operations as his throat is slit –

Tyson free -

She liked the imagery and thought about possibly starting to write a screenplay about it. _Writing a movie wouldn't be the most difficult thing I imagine. Read a few scripts and get a feel for it_.

_I could call up Ben Affleck. Nah, Damon. Ask for a favor. Tell him about how I loved Elysium or something. Thought about him being in the movie or for some tips. Didn't Mamet help them write it? No that was Soderburg. Wasn't it? I should call them both. Ask for tips. Whedon has a unique style. Very factual in his fantasy. I love the nightmares breaking out in Cabin in the Woods. Look up his scripts. See how he does it. Maybe I could –_

The fantasy stopped. The strategic linking of seperations weakened and disconnected. She imagined the horror the couple that had been gutted like pigs on a Native American reservation had been through. The nightmare. The room painted with their insides and the message on the wall, written in blood, that said

'Knock out' was the phrase that was cryptic at the time.

Tyson. Knockout. A hint or coincidence?

She had been the target. That much was sure. Why the change? Why did he change his focus to Rick?

The case.

Jerry stated he looked at the file and before Rick chased after he stated he knew who killed his father.

She tried to imagine a situation where that would work but her gears stopped.

Jerry Tyson is to Richard Castle as …

The Tooth Fairy is to Nick Heat.

Both fiction.

One famous. The other doesn't even exist yet.

Both _don't _exist but … One's a myth. Santa Claus. The other is famous and was a character. Based on real events sure but fiction none the –

Derrick Storm was fiction.

She thought back to how she thought of Derrick Storm. Spending time with the agents and field operatives. Watching some of the operations replayed and how the men quickly dispatched targets like G.I. Ninja's. Jordan was kind enough to let her watch some of the not so secret operations play out as they happened. She never knew the locations but at times she figured location generality. Slums in some place tropical. Inner city some place with lots of sand. The operations varied from extraction to reconnaissance to some times things happening she didn't understand. An explosion and silence. Code words. People leaving. On occasion she'd hear the next day about three people died in an explosion or how someone died of a heart attack that was somewhat important all in countries that could be what she witnessed but then again they could have been anywhere.

Derrick Storm. I killed him off.

She remembered Amy asking her next book. Her making up some plot that resembled something interesting and how she began to buy into it herself. A conspiracy for the Heat siblings to stumble into on their pursuit of justice. It had started so far with a bank robbery gone horribly wrong. A tattoo leading to a church that took Nick and Nikki – She was going to change that – too similar – maybe Anthony Heat? Marcus Heat? Alex Heat? No. Not Alex. Too weird. Allen? –

Allen. Allen would be unique. Not a lot of bad asses named Allen. Al wasn't a nickname that would strike fear in the hearts of criminal syndicates. Then again she wasn't writing Derrick Storm or Bruce Wayne so she could maybe have a funny part in the book. Something with a dog. People love dogs. Her mind connected investigation and dog and K – 9 dog named Sam came to her. Adorable German Shepard.

She was happy with this and her thoughts stopped. She was alone again. She felt the emptiness of the room around her. No one to spend her time with but her bed and her dreams.

Her phone rang and she fumbled for it – quickly answering it before noticing the number.

"Rick?" She asked eargerly.

"Um, No. You expecting him to call you this late?"

_Shit. It was Josh._

"No I … I was expecting a text but anyway what's going on?"

A slight hiss over the phone. Josh was on his cell and must have been moving in a car.

"I wanted to let you know I was serious about the Hamptons, Kate."

_Oh._

The conversation from earlier. It was too late to deal with this now.

"I'll need some time to think about it."

"I know." The words hung in the dead air, the unsaid following words bounced off of cell phone towers and through the air and people probably. The hiss of signal gradually dipping.

"I miss you Kate and I'm very sorry for what I did to you and Alex."

It was a start. Not a good start. A good start would have been him explaining how he castrated himself then shipped himself to her in the mail but that was incredibly unrealistic.

"If you don't want to go do you think we could all go somewhere sometime?"

She wanted Alex to know his father.

"I think I can manage that. I don't know when just give me some time. It's late."

"Okay." Josh's voice was warm indicating he was through the fog and saw the house that he was going to be outside of before he looked in.

"I'll call you?" The rise at the end indicated a question but it wasn't the call he was asking for. It was a toe being dipped in water. He was feeling the situation out. Wanting to continue but making sure pirhana's were asleep or at least recently fed.

"Yeah. Sure. Call me." Then she hung up.

She lay her head back on the cushion and began to drive herself crazy of why she might be letting him back in. Not everything was bad between them. They would still be together if it wasn't for his infidelity. Though now she was available in the dating scene and would like to think she was accounted for she knew that she was like a stealth girlfriend. There but hiding. Somewhere in Richard Castle's mind she was waiting for the perfect moment to strike. To come flooding back in and save him. Which was a joke of course. He didn't need to be saved. She was in need of that more than him. She needed someone to care for. Someone to love. It was kind of in her nature. She'd be a member of Green peace if it were more profitable. Well okay she needed someone to love and to be fabulously wealthy. Money had it's perks. She could do whatever she wanted almost all the time and could play when the urge struck her but she needed structure which is possibly why the detective gig probably appealed to her.

Derrick Storm had months of research behind it and tons of reading. She invested all of her time she could afford into that and with Nick Heat (working title) the operations stuff was already a known. Now it was procedural stuff which was huge. No wonder they don't just give big guys badges and let 'em do what they want.

Her mind danced to the possibilities of her character then thought about Rick –

_KNOCKKNOCK_

The door got her attention then she rose and approached it. She extended her hand to the door handle but not before peeking through hole in the door to see a fish eye lensed face of Rick. Relief came over her at the same time a tiny seed of dread became planted. She opened it smiling and she scanned him over. He looked tired and stoic until they locked eyes.

"Hey." He started. She could almost hear a saxophone play somewhere in the city.

He broke contact first and raised a gallon of whiskey.

"I got us something to celebrate with. A 'worst first date' award."

She laughed. Twirled a bit of her hair in her fingers.

"Come on in." She turned and immediately felt his eyes scanning her up and down as he entered. Good thing too because she was swaying her hips that way on purpose. She went to the kitchen to get two more glasses.

When she turned to hand him one she found him sitting on the couch. She went to him and handed him a glass.

"I wasn't sure what you can tolerate so I got a lot. Hope you don't mind."

"I'll find a use for it. Cook with it."

"What do you cook with whiskey?"

"Glass."

She filled the glass three fingers high, sat, then knocked it back without a flinch.

Rick smiled. He wanted to kiss her but poured himself a glass and took it to match her pace.

"It's late. I should call it a night soon."

She sat and leaned in towards him a little. Looked at his lips. The soft, strong, manly, loving lips.

"You know I can't possibly let you count that as our date."

He did a double take. "Of course it does. We went. We ate…"

"And?" She added waiting for him to add something else.

"That's it."

She looked at him pouty lips.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

He turned to face her poured another glass.

"That wasn't a date?"

She shook her head lightly causing a rebellious strand of hair to fall over her left eye suddenly giving her a look of a sexually hungry predator.

"Well I admit it wasn't my best but I think it still counts."

"No, Rick. A psychotic killer sitting down to taunt you and you mangling him does not count as a date."

He tried to hide his shock. He knew her game and wasn't going to let her win just yet.

"Tricking men into the second date. Never heard that before."

"No. I'm trying to get _the _date you promised me."

He smiled and leaned in.

"If you wanted to go on another date maybe we could go on one right now. I could lay out a blanket. We could have a picnic."

"At one in the morning?"

"In the bedroom."

Then he kissed her. The smell of whisky encouraging her to accept his push. She gave in and relaxed her jaw and their lips meld and caress each other like two lumps of colored oil in a lava lamp. The heat rose in her loins and pushed back to show she wanted more. He scooted in and she began to wonder how could their lips fit so perfe-

_KNOCKKNOCK_

The sound brought her back to her living room. Alone. Her imagination was going crazy again.

She stood from the couch still dazed at where her mind had been. She approached the door and extended her hand to the door handle then peeked through the hole in the door. It was Rick.

The Déjà vu she had wanted was not there as it came to her realization that something was seething inside of him.

She opened the door.

"Hey." He said.

"Hey." She said back.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah. Of course." She opened the door wider and moved to the side to let him in.

He entered and quickly started, "Got anything to drink?"

"Yeah. Ummm, some Scotch?"

"Perfect."

"Celebration?" She inquired.

_Courage._ He thought.

"Why not? We can toast to a case closed." Something in his voice made her uneasy but she did as he said and retrieved the two glasses.


	14. Chapter 14

They sat on the couch together and Kate took time pouring the scotch.

Rick knocked his share back before she could put the lid back on and offered his glass for more.

"I assume Tyson is no longer a threat then?" Jovial as her question may have been it was not answered until she filled the glass again. This time Rick took a moment to take in the aroma then put it down on the table.

"He's in surgery. Torn ACL and MCL falling down some stairs while being pursued."

"Is that what we are calling it then? Falling down stairs while running up to the roof?"

"What it says in my report. You see something different?"

"No. Not at all. I didn't see anything. Did you fall up the stairs too? Got some bruises there."

She went to caress his face to show sympathy but he grabbed her hand before she had a chance.

"Ice?"

"Yeah. I'll get some."

She stood and headed to the kitchen.

He watched her the whole time. Walking away and swaying her hips.

_Remember you have questions_

Still he kept his eyes on her. She wore a turtleneck to the date that night and what Rick would qualify as her "hot" jeans because of how they fit.

_Some day I'll find out what the difference is between the 'skinny' and the 'hot' jeans._

She opened the freezer compartment temporarily blocking her face from view and giving him a moment to gaze her wonderful chest. He prepared his mental camera to remember those curves forever.

"What's it look like?" She asked from behind the freezer door.

"Unforgettable." He muttered to himself.

She closed the door and he turned his head to conceal his gaze.

"What was that?" She asked a little too innocently.

"I didn't hear you what'd you ask?"

"The weather. How does the weather look?"

"Oh!" He looked outside quickly and used his limited meteorological knowledge to calm that it was in fact "Nice. It looks nice outside. Rainy. Wet. It looks nice and wet."

"Oh really?" She added playfully.

He wasn't supposed to feel uncomfortable was he? He was interrogating – _Questioning_ – he was questioning her.

"I have something to ask you Kate." He shifted gears quickly not caring too much about how awkward the transition was.

"Truth or Dare." She handed him the ice and he applied it and let the cool ease the burning lumps on his face.

"What happened to three questions?" He asked.

She sipped her scotch. "So you remember the three questions! What else?"

_Let's see what else he remembers._

"Are you going to answer my questions?" He was very annoyed at this moment.

"Are you going to keep answering my questions with more questions?" So was she.

"How long do you want to keep doing this?"

"How much longer do I have until I die?"

"You'd be willing to die rather than answer my questions?"

"Are you going to play Truth or Dare with me or not?"

Frustrated he opted to allow the softer approach rather than try and put her under the hot lights and play bad cop. The last time he did that it was counter productive.

"Fine."

"Truth or Dare?" She started.

"Truth."

She puffed out some air in frustration. Not what she was hoping to hear but rules are rules.

She toyed for a moment with the idea of asking him about Tyson but that would be a strategic buzzkill for games like these.

"Tell me what you remember."

"That's a dare." He sipped some more scotch. "And non specific." He raised the glass and let the scotch slide in.

"Okay okay fine. What do you remember about us?"

He soured his face. Swallowed hard. Began pointing to his mouth.

"Scotch really burns." He whimpered out.

"Oh does it? Does it burn? I hear it does that to liars."

He relaxed his face and showed the pain going away.

"Could you repeat the questions?"

"Rick. Look at me." He did. They fixed their gazes on each other and Rick relaxed finally. It may have been the scotch too but seeing her at this hour and on her couch and wanting brought him to a calmed excitement. He didn't need to run anymore form feeling this way. He could do this. With her. If he wanted.

"What do you remember about me?"

"First impressions?"

"Sure." She drank her scotch and settled in for an answer.

"Well …" He removed his jacket finally and this prompted her to remove her shoes.

"My very first thought was nothing. I saw you at the press conference and heard you talk about how you killed off Derrick Storm then I made my way through the crowd to get to you. Just to bring you in for questioning and when you turned…"

He paused. Remembering his breath stopping and an odd sensation in his chest.

"I don't remember what I said. I remember saying something though but I just remember thinking …" He hung his words out letting them taunt her.

"Yeah?"

"You were going to be a pain in my ass." He said as endearing as possible.

The words weren't constructive at all but his tone hinted at another meaning.

"What does that mean?"

"My turn." He smiled.

She cussed silently and thought for a moment before finally saying, "Truth."

"Playing it cautious?" He commented.

"The night is young."

"It's one in the morning. The night is dead."

"What's the question Rick?" She spoke in a commanding tone.

He kept his gaze for a moment before pouring another glass.

"First impression of me." He was not the kind to be so vain but he wanted to know if she took him for stupid. He needed to know that. Thinking someone is too dumb to notice something might be excusable. Knowing that they were smart but doing it anyway was plain folly.

She smirked, of course, took a moment to pour her own drink and knock it back.

"I was happy to see you."

She looked away hoping that he got the message and that she had shown enough of her feelings that maybe he'd be more daring.

"That's it?"

"Yep. Your turn. Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

"Lame. Okay fine. I know you don't like talking about your father so I'll ask you about your mother. What's she like?"

"Female. Red hair. Free spirit. Not a great mother but she tries."

_Father dying really changed him._ She imagined what he could have been like if that hadn't happened. Playful. Maybe more relaxed.

"Truth or Dare?" He asked.

"Dare." Anxious to take the game up a notch she put her glass on the table and waited.

His eyes narrowed and drank what was in his glass.

He pondered why he was there. He needed answers. He liked being with her like this but he needed to know.

"Why would Tyson tell me to ask you about Venezuela?"

It was a question sure but his tone indicated that the game was over.

"I don't know." Her face became serious.

"Columbia?"

"Should have dared me to take my top off Rick."

"Seattle? Why would he mention you would know about all these places?"

She poured herself a drink.

"Don't know."

"What did you see when you were writing Derrick Storm and what does it have to do with my father being murdered?"

She stood and approached the kitchen for distance but Rick stood and followed.

"I want an answer Kate."

"I can't tell you something I don't know."

"You know something."

"You want me to make something up? I can give you a crazy half cocked theory but _I don't know!_"

It dawned on her that he might remember more than he let on.

"Try me. I'm willing to hear anything." His voice demanding but not mean.

She reached the refrigerator and tried to open the freezer door like she was somehow going to hide in it and Rick's arm shot behind her, past her ear and pushed the door shut.

"Tell me what you think you know."

"I think I know that I need some ice for my scotch."

He turned her around and now their bodies were close enough to touch if they just reached out a little.

"Do you know who killed my father." It was a demand. Bold. A line drawn in the sand.

Kate swallowed hard.

"Rick all I saw was video of censored satellite feeds and redacted files. I never saw anyone or anything referencing to anyone or anything about your father."

She hoped that was enough.

"You never heard anything about anyone named Castle?"

"Yes."

"How sure?"

"Bet my life on it."

"Good because Castle isn't my born name. It's Rogers. "

She slid past him to get away again. He let her pass.

"I never heard –"

She stopped.

"Mr Allen Rodgers?"

Rick's eyes widened.

"Rick, Allen Rogers was the Director of Operations of South America."

He went to her wanting to pull out the truth with needle nose pliers.

"My father was – what he look like?"

"I saw him once. He looked … Uh, old, dusty brown hair. Brown eyes. Deep voice."

"What else?"

"Not much, uh, glasses. About six foot."

Rick was silent.

"You don't think your father is still alive do you?" She asked knowing full well she might be giving him false hope.

"If he is then that means – "

Rick's face began to go white so he went to the couch and poured another glass.

"- he faked his own death."

Kate's brow creased in simultaneous understanding and confusion, "Why would he do that?"

Richard finished the drink quickly. Covered his mouth in horror as his own imagination began to run wild.

"He knew something. Somebody needed to see him dead. Somebody needed him to disappear so he could work on another assignment."

"For over twenty years? They would have moved you and you're mom, wouldn't they?"

"We did move. When he died we changed names too."

Then things in the room got heavy.

Kate had been working for her father while researching. A serial killer knew something they didn't.

And Rick knew a psychologist named Bracken played a part in it.

**I apparently have a fetish with writing myself into corners … Leave a comment! The story can still change on a dime!**


	15. Chapter 15

**I figured it out everyone don't worry. Keep calm and leave a review.**

"Alien conspiracy?"

He shook his head tiredly. _Her time traveler theory made more sense._

He was drunk now. No hiding it. He was incapacitated but he had enough.

"I keep thinking of Cape Fear. Killer looking for vengeance on the man responsible for putting him away."

"The head of cover operations fakes his own death so a killer can discover he's dead." He said.

"Yeah that won't work. It's late. We should call it a night."

He pressed his eyes closed and released them allowing them to refocus and sober momentarily.

"It's early now. Plans for tomorrow?"

She didn't even want to make a flirtatious remark or advance. Her mind clouded and body fatigued she only wanted to go to sleep.

"No. Standard sleep in and try and write."

"How's the book comin'?"

"Three hundred pages. Stuck at a point where they're hanging off the edge of a building. Love interest might be a killer," she covered her yawn, " aaaaaaannddd Nick just learned he was adopted. Was gonna change Nick's name I think. Maybe just kill them all off in a fiery explosion. Start over."

He woke up a little at that idea.

"You can't just kill off what you don't like."

"My characters. My issues."

"Are you planning on killing me off?"

She woke up a little at that herself. She noticed the time. Three A.M.

"Could just bring Derrick back. Lost World brought back a character why can't I?"

"You said 'my characters, my issues' like you were giving up."

The words were hers and she never quite spoke about her characters this way. She loved them. At least she thought she did.

She always wanted them to be loved. With Nick and company they'd been treated like step children to a slave master. Just above garbage. The scenario's were interesting but they didn't have the quirkiness she typically injected into them to make them human.

She sat up and rolled the movie of the story thus far and it had all the stuff she wanted but it was a brooding, depressing story. Dark. Not noir but uber noir. The kind of messed up portrayal of evil that would flourish in disgusting back alleys of third world country slums. The kind of stuff that snuff film fanatics love. People dying, at their wits end, chase scenes, conspiracies by sex depraved cults. The dog she had planned to include was mentioned and she hadn't quite been involved yet but she was holding onto that. It was a dark story.

Made sense too. She had lived the darkness recently. Everything she was writing was either inspired by or coming true in real life. As if art was mocking life, then life bullied art by dunking its head into a toilet then flushing. Art would retaliate by protesting outside of Life's work place and throwing rotten food. Life retaliated with police and riot shields. Then Art would …

Would…

Nothing.

_Shit I'm tired._

"Just frustrated is all." Was all she could manage to say. _Maybe I should go to the Hamptons with Josh._

Rick didn't respond but got a sense that what had happened between them was a good reason why.

"You're turn." He said. If he was going to have her help him he needed her in a good mental capacity to do so.

"What now?"

"Truth or Dare." He put the glass down.

"Rick, you don't have to if you don't –"

"I'm drunk and I want to help. I pretty much have to do whatever you tell me."

She was shocked to life a little on that. The initial excitement of the muse and reformed man toy giving an opening – no not an opening – a kicked down door with flashbang grenades tossed in – faded almost as quickly as her want to take advantage of it kicked in.

Through the short time they'd been together she'd teased, seduced and done everything to get him but now that he was here, metaphorically tearing his clothes off and wanting to make her happy, she felt at a disadvantage.

She knew what she thought she wanted.

The killer now caught and a new chapter with his father's case unfolding she didn't know what he remembered or if this way of helping was his way of saying 'Goodbye' or, as anxiety began to hit her, 'Hello'.

Her silence began to irritate him and she realized why. Then, as what happens when someone drinks, the thoughts in his head became words as the stuff inside becomes inside out.

"Karma it is."

"What now?" She was still tired and trying to decide what to do with him but it seemed now he had made up his mind what she was going to do.

"The skirt chaser gets fooled by the playgirl. There's a story for you though I will say it's been done before probably by better writers I'm sure."

"Wait. You think I'm playing you?"

"For a minute you fooled me. I was sure you'd dare me to take you to the room and bang your brains out."

She couldn't talk. Slowed by the alcohol she finally thought a response.

"Rick take me to my room, tear my clothes off and put your mouth on places other people wouldn't tell their mothers about."

A quiet covered the room. Neither moved. If there was a clock they could here it ticking. If a pin fell it would have echoed.

"You never dared me." He said breaking the silence like a gunshot in the night.

She leaned forward pushing the effects aside as best she could.

"Richard Castle. I dare you to think of the one thing you want to do to me the most then take me back to my room and do it while you pull my hair and talk dirty to me."

He smiled. _Turn about is fairplay._

"Do you remember what you said the first time we talked? In the interrogation room? Something about who's bedpost we could notch I believe."

She nodded confirming then was happy to know he remembered.

"Yeah?" She needed him now and needed him bad.

He stood and she rose to match his actions.

"The passage from the book? 'He trailed his lips up her neck and connected to her mouth. The union merging the two bodies and connecting their skin.' ?"

She gulped.

"How I told you that what I could do in one night could fill one of your books?"

_Wait! He remembers everything doesn't he!_

"Do you remember when I told you I didn't know if I wanted to kiss you or strangle you?"

The memory out loud now an erotic punch in the gut as she exhaled in confirmation.

He stepped towards her and now she was paralyzed with excitement.

"You remember how I told you not do that to me?"

She nodded. Not knowing what she was agreeing too.

"How our bodies moved and how we moaned in our own heat and passion?"

She was light headed from the want. She didn't realize she had stopped breathing.

"I remember Kate. Do you want to know what I wish I had done?"

"You could always show me." Her voice was weak.

He was in front of her and with a quickness she wasn't ready for he brought her into his arms and grabbed the hair on the back of her hand. Leaned into her eat to whisper –

"See you in the morning Kate."

Her wait shifted and she teemed with the desire to force herself to him.

The he let go, snatched the glass on the table and walked towards the kitchen.

"I'll sleep on the couch. Get some rest."

By the time he put the glass in the sink he felt himself spin around.

"Rick don't let me sleep alone tonight." Then she kissed him.

He kissed her back and their bodies met and the mere touch set off a chain reaction of want that send Rick in a frenzy like a shark around blood and Kate would hear ringing in her ears from distant wedding bells.

In her mind this was were the fairy tale ended and the porn started. Her happily ever _bow chick bow wow_

"No more games." She said her hands in his hair.

"I'm not playing." He lifted her onto the counter top and she started to undo his shirt.

"Stop." He said while kissing her. He wanted to stop himself but just couldn't.

"Okay." She said continuing removing his shirt until finally getting tired of buttons and tearing the shirt open.

"We need to stop Kate." He said easing her down and caressing her chest and sides with his strong, calloused hands. Putting his face on her stomach and beginning to move down to –

"Please." She lifted her knees giving him access to wherever he wanted to put his mouth.

Then his weight, his touch and his body disappeared.

She looked up to see him turned away and covering his face.

"I can't."

The start and stop and alcohol and desire and denial all left her with an empty ball in her stomach.

"What?! Why?!" She pleaded angrily.

"We can't. You should go to bed."

Her head flushed she put her hand on her forehead to try and cool it down.

"The hell!? You have to! I have to!"

"Time for bed."

"Wha'… What'd I do! God! I'm sorry!"

Then silence. She hated it. It was wrong. All wrong. They were supposed to be together to ravish each other and go to her room and love each other forever and make a million babies and live rich and put bad guys away and –

"I've been using women my whole life. If we do this there's only one thing that'll happen."

Now heaving in a lustful anger.

"You're being chivalrous!?" A laughter leaked out. "Rick! I love you what are you doing!?"

The words escaped her mouth before she could check them at her mental door.

"God damnit why!"

He was feeling guilty now. He never should have allowed her to get him this worked up. The point were she promised things like "love" and even if he did he would be coming into an abbreviated fatherhood for Alex and the everlasting gaze of potential mother in law dearest.

"I can't." Was all he could say.

"Why?!"

She was pissed. She wanted him now and she knew how the dogs at the racetracks felt chasing the fake rabbit.

"Give me one god damn good reason why!?"

She took herself off the counter and now the empty ball in her stomach was filled with hurt and she wanted to just have angry sex with him until the pain of rejection went away.

"Go to bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"The case? Is this about the case? What if we can't solve it? What if we can't find out what's going on with your dad?"

The words not nearly as eloquent as she thought they'd be.

He faced her, visibly fighting back his own carnal desires.

"It's not the case. I want this with you more than I thought I would want any woman but –"

"But what!"

"If we start this without finishing things then –"

"Then what! Jesus! I'm ready for this! For us! I want this like I want air! Did you hear me say that I love you?"

"And what if we don't work? What then? A killer taunts you? My father is still out there and has something to do with all this? The therapist I'm seeing somehow connected?"

"You're seeing the damn therapist in the middle of a conspiracy?"

"That's where I went. Undercover. That's what the guys in the suit were there for."

He was angry he blew his cover to someone but still focused on explaining things.

"Kate if this is as dangerous as it looks and something happened to you – "

"Then we stop him!" She proclaimed still horny and angry.

"And if they send someone after you?" He had to keep her away.

"Then stop them. And the next one. The one after that and then …"

"You don't know what you're saying."

She didn't but then again she didn't care. Her rage-hurt boiled over.

"You're saying no?"

"I'm sorry Kate I can't."

She turned and stomped away to her room and slammed the door behind her.

He looked at the couch. The plush, comfy, lonely, single man sized couch and it mocked his solidarity.

Lowering his head.

"Gonna be a pain in my ass." He finally said to himself.

He made his way to it and before he sat to get himself comfortable he stared at her door. One long painful look.

She sat on her bed in angered misery, still filled to the brim with want and desire and stared at her own bedroom door.

He hurt inside not giving in to what he now knew he wanted and walked around the couch and stood outside her door. The handle seeming both distant and close at the same time.

She spotted his shadow through the crack under the door and her lips parted and pulse quickened.

_Open the door Rick._

Then the shadow walked away. She collapsed onto the bed covering her face, willing the tears to not dare come up and she took of her pants, climbed under the sheets and before she fell asleep a few fell against her will.

**C'mon people this is T rating. Season 3 will make up for it I promise!**

**Let's play a game. What's your favorite line and what's the subtext?** Go!


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